


Let The Ricks Fall Where They May

by Kat_Aclysm



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Baby!Morty, Babysitting, Explosions, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, PTSD, Suicide Attempt, Younger Rick, more tags to be added in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 93,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8376340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Aclysm/pseuds/Kat_Aclysm
Summary: Rick never expected himself being stuck caring for a young Morty; one day he was minding his own business and then everything he ever knew would change as if the multiverse itself was determined to displace him. However, being stubborn and resilient is the only thing he knows how to do. (Younger Rick, Baby Morty, A/U elements, later chapters get darker)





	1. BabyRicker

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. Closing Time by Semisonic (C) 1999 Geffen Records. Cover art by author: https://68.media.tumblr.com/21996c7cf6a0d805010fc8e6edd86a01/tumblr_ohw7bkbvc51ve69jqo1_400.jpg
> 
> I also keep a Rick and Morty Art Blog, fanfiction scribbles will appear on it often. It's SFW (I blackbar 'bits') - http://rickandmortybykat.tumblr.com/
> 
> NOTE: The original version of this was very raw and unedited. The chapters are being tidied up for readability, and the version you will read on AO3 will be much cleaner. 
> 
> This is also being beta-read by the WONDERFUL Unlvcrjchick!

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy. Created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. Closing Time by Semisonic (C) 1999 Geffen Records. Cover art by author.

 **NOTE:** This is the beginning of something crazy. Chapter has been proofread for readability and the grammar has been tidied. Enjoy!

 

\---------------------------------------------  
  


**Chapter 1 - BabyRicker**

  
**November 16th, 9:47 AM, 2001  
** **Suburbia  
** **Earth, Dimension Unknown  
**   


\---------------------------------------------

 

It was a cold morning in the middle of November. The sky was overcast and it had snowed overnight; it looked like winter was going to come early this year. He'd only gotten the call about an hour ago, but when Rick Sanchez was needed, he came. He was on the front doorstep of the house as soon as he could make it, more than happy to help his daughter whenever she was in a bind.  
  
Before he even got the chance to knock on the door, Beth had already opened it; she had seen him coming through the glass panels in the front door. The older man's ears were immediately assaulted by the sound of a crying child, yet he ignored it and offered his daughter a wide grin. His first observation was that the woman was already at her wit's end; her hair was in disarray and her expression looked like she was having a hard time coping.  
  
“Hi, sweetie,” Rick attempted his most saccharine sweet voice as he wiped his boots on the doormat. “Well I'm here now, thanks for opening the door for me. W-what did you need?” He stepped through the front door, closing it behind him.  
  
“Hi, Dad.” Beth seemed very happy to see him. “Thanks for showing up so quickly. You're a lifesaver...” She moved in to give him a quick hug.  
  
At that moment, Summer ran up the hallway and bumped into her mother's leg, keen to see who was at the door. She stared up at her grandpa with tear-stained eyes, not saying anything. She had obviously been upset about only a moment ago, though she was calm now.  
  
“I came as soon as I could,” Rick began to unbutton his snow jacket. “Fortunately for you, I wasn't doing anything particularly important... n-not really, anyway.” He glanced down at Summer, offering his best grin; one that was actually genuine. “Well, hello to you, too. Hey, Summer, you're getting tall. How old are you again?”  
  
Summer simply stared back at her grandfather as she hugged her mother's leg, completely silent, unwilling to answer his question in her shyness.  
  
“She's four in a couple of months.” Beth answered for her. “We can't chat, I'm afraid. I have to take her to daycare and I'm running late as it is... Jerry's at a job interview so he couldn't do it,” the blonde haired woman made an exasperated sigh. “I'm really sorry for the short notice, Dad, bu--”  
  
“That's OK.” Rick was quick to cut her off and raised his hand as if to dismiss it. “Just give me the details.”  
  
Beth suddenly twisted her brow, becoming upset. “Work called me, I have to go in right away, we need to do surgery on some horses. Some disgruntled punter got into one of the stables at the track last night and shot a bunch of them. Asshole was pissed off that his horse didn't win.”  
  
Rick raised his eyebrows. “Jesus, Beth. That's terrible.” He tried to sound as sympathetic as he could, but in reality he couldn't have cared less. Things died all the time and he didn't see any sense in worrying about it. Still, he wasn't about to put down his own daughter's beliefs, especially not in front of her, straight to her face.  
  
“Yeah...” Beth glanced off to the side, needing a moment to contain herself. “Anyway, Dad, I need you to take care of Morty for the day. He's still asleep, so leave him down until he starts crying. He's teething again so he might be a bit grumpy.” She reached down to pick Summer up. “I have to get going. There's coffee brewing and food in the cupboards. Eat whatever you want, I'll replace it when I have the chance to go shopping again.” She briskly moved off down the corridor again, carrying Summer with her. “Come on baby, we have to get out of here!”  
  
Rick let them go. He dusted off his snow jacket and hung it up on the clothing rack near the door. He stood in the hallway for a little while, simply staying out of the way and quietly taking in the chaos within the household. Summer had started her screaming protest again and before long, Beth was talking back to her in stern authoritative tones.  
  
He moved into the lounge room and sat down on the couch, picking up the remote so he could flip through TV channels. He kept the sound off, though; the cacophony of his daughter and granddaughter was way more entertaining than anything that could have been on TV. He couldn't help but smirk about it as he heard the yelling; two very dominating personalities were arguing back and forth at each other with the same amount of fervor as he would have done himself. Rick couldn't help but wonder if those strong-willed personality genes being expressed were from him.

“ _Probably.”_ He thought to himself with a smirk, and couldn't help but feel proud. Strong-willed personalities meant strong successful people who wouldn't become stomped on or screwed over. He had stashed a hip flask in his shirt pocket and surreptitiously took a sip from it while Beth was distracted; he didn't really want a lecture about drinking so early in the day.

Beth was soon at the front door with a bag in one arm and Summer in the other. “Thanks again, Dad. I'll be home later this afternoon. Jerry will pick Summer up from daycare. Once he gets home, you can take off if you want.”

“Wh-whatever he wants. Don't worry about it, sweetie.” Rick called out to her from the couch. “Have a good day at wor-UUURRRRRPPk!” He heard the door-jam click shut and finally turned the TV volume up now that the house was quiet, flicking channels once again.

A boring soap opera. Click. A morning variety show. Click. A kid's cartoon about flying superheroes in bright spandex outfits. Click. An infomercial about a hybrid coffee maker and blender; he had always hated those stupid things. Click. He finally settled on a news briefing channel and watched, though he was already bored of it. When he heard the miserable wailing sounds coming from Morty's bedroom halfway through a commercial, he was only too happy to get up.  
  
He moved into the baby's room and peered over the side of the crib to greet his grandson, though he immediately regretted his decision as two of his senses were assaulted; the sound of the baby's crying was bad enough, however, the smell was even worse.

“Hey there, little buddy. What's all that noise for?” Rick picked up the screaming youngster and narrowed his eyes at him; he really did smell appalling. “So... s-so that's how it's going to be, huh?” He continued to glare at the child and watched him carefully. He already knew what the issue was and he began mentally running through the steps that would come next; it had been a long time since he had changed a poopy diaper.

Morty had calmed just down long enough to look back at his grandfather, though he was still clearly upset. He was hungry and very uncomfortable, his mouth hurt, this person wasn't his mother and he was still waking up. All of these factors contributed to his current mood and the youngster scrunched his little face up, resuming the loud miserable wailing.

Rick made an irritated huff and carried Morty over to the changing table. “Stop making that noise, i-it's not all that bad. It's only a big sloppy wet turd.” He got out everything he needed to before starting, suddenly remembering how much he hated this part. “I gotta be level with you, kid... I've shit myself before. It's not something I'm proud of, but... it's something you get over pretty quickly, i-it's not the end of the world.”  
  
“OK, so I gotta negotiate with you, little buddy. We gotta lay down some ground rules if this is going to become a regular thing with you.” He popped open the press-studs on the bottom of the baby's onesie; if he could scowl further as he opened the diaper, he would have. “Rule number one: w-we do not piss or shit on Grandpa... got that? It's a violation of my... m-my personal space and I do not consent to it.” He immediately pulled out a packet of baby wipes and began cleaning him up.

Morty simply replied with whimpering noises, though his volume had lowered now; the mere presence of a familiar person was enough to start calming him down.

Rick finished the job quickly, throwing everything into the trash as he went, not wanting to spend any more time on the task than necessary. Once he had placed the clean diaper snugly around the baby's waist, he fastened the tapes up and stripped the onesie off him entirely, as it would have needed laundering anyway. He picked up the youngster and set him down on the floor, before he rolled up the poopy diaper and tossed it into the lidded diaper pail beside the changing table.  
  
“Don't move anywhere, kid. And more importantly, DON'T get into anything while I'm out of the room.” Rick stepped out to wash his hands, though he momentarily lingered at the doorway. “I'm trusting you on this one, little buddy. Don't blow it.”  
  
Morty watched the spiky haired man leave with indifference, then shakily got to his feet and clumsily moved across the room so he could push over his toy box. By the time Rick had come back, the little boy had already thrown out more than half of the toys and was sitting on the floor among the mess he had made, chewing on the ear of his stuffed rabbit. Of all his toys, he liked that one most of all.  
  
“What did I just say to you, kiddo? Sheesh.” Rick navigated his way through the clutter and went through the closet in the corner of the room to pick out something that he thought was suitable. Once he had the clothes ready, he bent down and pulled a yellow t-shirt over Morty's head before the kid could move or put up a fight. He attempted to put pants on him next, but Morty had already begun trying to escape.  
  
Rick was faster and simply grabbed him by the arm. “Not another step. Though, you know what? I get it... sometimes I hate wearing pants too, b-but you still need to wear them because it's cold outside.” He grumbled as he grabbed the youngster up off the floor and fought with him as he struggled to get his pants on. Somehow, through the wiggling and leg kicking, he managed the feat.

Once successful, he held the kid against his side and looked down at him. Morty was well over a year old now, nearly a year and a half. He was walking confidently; that developmental milestone had been right on time. Rick had also noticed that the kid was keen to explore the world around him and get into anything he could. He hadn't started talking yet, which Beth worried about, but maybe that was a good thing; most people Rick knew talked far too much for him to tolerate them for very long. However, he could tolerate his grandson and then some; he'd known the kid since birth, but like any baby, he was boring initially. Now that he was growing bigger, his little personality was starting to come out and flourish and Rick found himself coming up with more reasons to come over and spend time with him. Although he would never want to admit to it, somehow he'd managed to fall in love along the way.

As the little boy stared back up him, Rick couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for him in the future; he could see the sharp attentiveness in his eyes as they focused on him, keen and bright. Although he wasn't talking, it didn't matter; he was full of potential, even if he did have Jerry's genes.

Morty wasn't really sure what to make of the situation. Although he knew exactly who this person was, he still wasn't his mother. He began to grumble and whine again as he pulled at his grandfather's clothes, trying to indicate that he was hungry.

“Yeah, I know. I'm on it.” Rick took the cue and headed out to the kitchen. He placed the kid into his high chair, tied a bib around his neck and opened a jar of banana baby food, thankful for the fact he didn't have to do anything else; he hated cooking. Thankfully for him, Morty was hungry so he didn't have to do the puerile airplane thing with the spoon; he was well above such stupidity.  
  
“So, rule number two,” Rick began explaining as he shoveled a large glob of of lumpy yellow mush into the youngster's mouth with a plastic spoon. “Don't vomit on Grandpa. In fact, save it for your father.” He had to smirk at that thought. “You can throw up on the floor, anyone else, or... or even on yourself. Hell, I've done that more times than I care to admit.” He shoveled another spoonful of mush into Morty's mouth, lightly poking the kid in the shoulder with his free hand to emphasize his words. “But don't do it on Grandpa. Again, i-it's a violation of my personal spa-UUURRRPce. Got that?"

Morty made a loud happy squeal in response to Rick's burping, his attention on his grandfather's thick spiky hair; it swayed as he talked and moved his head. He reached up, wanting to grab at it.  
  
Rick took the happy noise as a sign of agreement. “Good. Glad to see we're on the same page for once.” He finished feeding Morty and tossed the jar into the sink. After wiping the excess food off the kid's face, he pulled him out of the high chair and held him at his side again, looking down at him expectantly.  
  
“OK, kid. Your call, you're the boss now. Do you want to watch TV or something?”  
  
Morty made another happy burble in reply and then made a loud burp, his attention fixated on Rick's hair.

Rick chuckled at the sound. “Y-yeah, OK, you got me. I can see how we're related now.”  
  
He moved back into the lounge room, sat back down on the couch and set Morty down beside him, although he really wasn't interested in watching TV. Morty had all of his attention now; he was way more interested in simply watching his grandson be himself. Now that he was big enough to explore the world around him with some degree of independence, he was only getting more entertaining and it was amusing as hell to watch.  
  
Morty immediately reached forward to grab at Rick's arm, gripping onto his shirt to haul himself up onto his feet. Once standing, he grabbed up at the first tuft of spiked hair he could reach and yanked on it.  
  
Rick sat there patiently and let him. “Go for it, kiddo, just don't pull too hard. I'll let you know when it hurts.” If it were anyone else in the world, Rick would have never let anyone near his hair and would have shoved them away. But for Morty, he would show all the self-restraint in the world; he'd already taken a hefty poke in the eye on a previous babysitting episode, and on one occasion, Morty had been playing a stomping game in his lap and had accidentally stomped a heel straight into his most sensitive of regions. Despite this, he was happy to absorb the kid's excesses of energy without deflating his spirit. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Rick was crazy about his grandson; he even preferred being around him than some of his own friends.  
  
Morty had finally grown tired of playing with Rick's hair. He sat down beside his grandfather and began idly chewing on his shirt. He made soft unhappy noises each time he bit down on the fabric and had begun drooling.  
  
“Yeah, I know, buddy. Your mom told me that you're teething.” Rick gently nudged the kid off him and waited until he was sitting on the couch cushion before getting to his feet. “Stay there, and this time I mean it. Actually... scratch that. You can help me find something.” He knew it was better to grab the kid up and take him with him rather than risk having him fall off the couch.  
  
Once back in the kitchen, he set Morty down on the floor and immediately began going through the drawers. Nothing. He checked the kitchen cupboards, going through all the plasticware and cooking pots, still finding nothing.  
  
“Damn it. Where the hell does your mom keep your dumb baby sh--” He cut himself off quickly, not wanting to curse in front of the youngster. “Where does your mother keep all your stuff, kiddo?”  
  
Morty didn't make a sound in reply as he was currently preoccupied playing with a bottle cap he had found on the floor.  
  
Rick sighed at the sight and scooped him up off the floor again. “That's not for you, little buddy. You're only going to shove it in your mouth, and then you'll choke to death, and your mother will blame me despite the fact you're the one who made that choice in the first place. B-baby logic, right? Sheesh.” Despite his words, he was grinning; Morty had already forgotten all about the bottle cap and was making another grab at his hair.

Rick carried the kid across the room to the fridge and resumed his search, soon finding what he was after; an entire container of teething rings. Fortunately for him, Beth was a prepared mother who planned everything ahead of time and she had the sense to keep them ready to go in the freezer. Rick silently thanked his daughter's preparedness as he grabbed two teething rings out of the open container and immediately popped one into Morty's mouth.  
  
Morty wasted no time grabbing onto it so he could start chewing.

“There you go, kiddo, d-don't say that Grandpa doesn't do anything for you. I got you, bro.” As he watched the young kid, his brows furrowed in thought; a strange idea had suddenly come to mind. He shuffled the youngster and firmly held him in one arm up against his hip as he returned to the crockery cupboard, grabbing up a bowl.  
  
“Your mom will probably kill me for this, but what she doesn't know can't hurt her, right?” Rick dropped the spare frozen teething ring into the bowl and carried Morty back out to the lounge room. “Don't tell her anything. What happens with Grandpa stays with Grandpa.”  
  
He placed the bowl down on the coffee table and set Morty back down on the couch. He took out his hip flask and began pouring whiskey into the bowl, measuring out just enough to immerse the teething ring in the stuff.  
  
“Again, don't tell her about this, but if it works, then who cares, right?” Rick let the whiskey-soaked teething ring sit for a moment before dipping two fingers in to pick it out, swapping it over with the one Morty had. He licked the fingers he had in the bowl and began to observe the reaction, curious to see what would happen.  
  
Morty immediately reacted to the new taste sensation with positive sounding noises; he didn't know what the new flavor was, but he seemed to really like the strong taste. He held onto the new teething ring with both hands, seeming much happier to chew on the new one over the old.  
  
“Is it working? Should be. Anyway, t-that should numb your mouth for a while, little buddy.” Rick explained to his grandson, not seeming to care in the slightest that he was a baby and wouldn't understand, “and if your mom bitches, you can basically tell her we're cutting out the middle-man. That teething gel crap she gives you? It's basically glycerin gel with alcohol in it.”  
  
Rick figured it would keep him occupied for a while and resumed watching television, changing the channel over to a childish looking animated cartoon for Morty.  
  
Over the next couple of hours, Rick would swap the teething rings over, noting that Morty seemed much happier to chew on them after they were immersed in whiskey. He would have shared his observations with Beth when she got home, but he knew even mentioning it would have her yelling at him about giving alcohol to her son. It would have also provided her with a great opportunity to complain about his alcohol dependency issues, which weren't issues at all, at least in his eyes.

It was often a sore point of conversation between them that ended in one or the other walking away in anger; Beth typically brought it up because she was worried. Meanwhile, Rick wasn't worried at all - it was a comfortable habit that relaxed him and he could give it up any time he wanted to; he just chose not to. His daughter brought it up so often that he was immune to her complaints by now, but he wasn't about to risk his chances at being allowed to babysit again.  
  
“R-remind me to hide the evidence before your mom comes home.” Rick took a short swig from his hip flask and recapped it, stuffing it back into his shirt pocket. “We don't want to get into any shi-UUURRGGt.”  
  
The next hour was spent entertaining his young grandson with toys. Now that he wasn't in pain anymore, he was very playful. Morty seemed to like it best when Rick made spaceship noises with the stuffed animals as he waved them around in the air before playfully crashing them straight into his belly; he could do it as many times as he wanted and the youngster would still squeal with laughter every time. He was pretty easy to please.  
  
Rick took the time out to clean up the teething rings that had been soaking in booze and disposed of the evidence down the sink, rinsing everything thoroughly afterwards. Although it was a shame to waste such expensive whiskey, it had baby slobber in it.  
  
Soon after that, he had retrieved the acoustic guitar he kept in his car, figuring that playing some tunes would keep the both of them occupied for a while. He also decided it would probably be a good idea to impart his love of music onto the impressionable youngster as early as he could.  
  
He sat down on the floor with the case and immediately lay on the carpet next to Morty, propping his upper belly up on his elbows.  
  
“Hey kid, you probably don't know this, but... your Grandpa has a pretty good ear for music.” He grinned as Morty shuffled across the floor to him with great interest. “I used to be in a band... I was the lead guitarist. They used to call me the axe-man.” He lowered his head as he watched Morty make another grab for his hair and he sat there patiently while the tiny pair of hands grabbed at great clumps of spikes, pulling on them. “Yeah, my hair was better back then, too. Glad to see it keeps you happy.”  
  
When Morty tried to stuff one of the spikes into his mouth, Rick gently pried the kid's hands off again and sat up properly, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Yeah, don't slobber on me, I do plenty of that already. Save it for yourself.” He unzipped the guitar case and took out the large musical instrument, setting it in his lap. “If you want... when you're a little older, I'll show you how to use this.” He moved one hand up the fret of the guitar and began to pluck a few strings with the other, testing to see if the thing was still in tune.  
  
Morty was fascinated by the unusual object and the strange new noises. He wasted no time standing up and clumsily stumbling across the short space to the guitar, practically falling onto it as he grabbed at the strings. When he discovered that they made noise, he giggled in amusement and began whacking them with his hands.  
  
Rick didn't seem to mind too much as he played a couple more chords, letting the kid's tiny hands disrupt the harmony of the sound he was creating. “You can do that if you want, but,” he reached back to retrieve a plectrum from the guitar case. “If you keep that up, you'll break my strings. It's a giant pain in the ass to replace them, so be a little more gentle, huh?” He tapped the rounded bottom end of the instrument. “Why don't you play with this part instead?” He casually rapped his fingers on the case, demonstrating the loud wooden noise that it made when he did it.  
  
Morty began to imitate what Rick had just done, whacking the guitar with the palms of his hands, squealing with joy at the discovery of making a such a loud noise.

“You wanna hear a song, little buddy? I know all the classics. Good stuff, none of that new bullcrap.” He hummed for a couple of moments as he tried to remember something, then continued the tune by strumming it out.  
  
Morty wasn't listening; hitting the base of the guitar was far more entertaining for him than anything else could have been right now.  
  
“Actually, come to think of it, I know one that kinda reminds me of you,” Rick took a moment to retune the guitar strings and then began casually playing the opening riffs to 'Closing Time'. “Like I said, one of the classics. And if you want a piece of trivia, it's actually not about a bar.” He paused, smirking. “Yeah, I know. Your mom would probably have something to say about that.”  
  
Morty had stopped hitting the side of the guitar and was listening to the harmonious guitar music now.  
  
Rick grinned down at his grandson, seeming quite pleased to have his attention. He began singing the words aloud, strumming out the music on the strings, _“Closing time, open all the doors and let you out into the world,”_ he began nodding his head in time to the beat. _“Closing time, turn all of the lights up over every boy and every girl...”_ He sang loudly and his key was on point. Fingers expertly moved across the strings as they had done many times before, not skipping a single note.

“ _You don't have to go home, but you can’t… stay here.”_  
  
Before long, Rick had his eyes closed and his mind was totally focused on strumming out the rest of the song, losing himself to it entirely. As he sang, he put his heart into it and nothing else in the world mattered to him in that moment except for the fact that he was singing for his favorite little person.  
  
He was so involved in what he was doing that he didn't see Jerry come in the front door, nor did he see the other approaching him. It wasn't until he opened his eyes again that he saw him overhead, a sort of dumb expression hanging over his face.  
  
Rick immediately stopped playing and was silent.  
  
“Wow, don't stop on account of me.” Jerry said suddenly, looking quite pleased with himself.  
  
Rick scowled and moved his hands away from the strings, leaning an arm on the side of his guitar. “Hello Jeeeerrrryyyy.” He drawled out the name with particular bitterness. “What do you want?”  
  
“Wow, Rick,” Jerry replied, “that was actually... really good! I didn't know you could play the guitar. I didn't know you could sing either.”  
  
“There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Jerry.” Rick set his brows in a deep scowl. He hated the fact that Jerry had walked in on him while playing and felt a little self-conscious about it. He certainly didn't want to talk about the subject anymore, especially if he was going to be open to his musical ability being criticized. “How long have you been standing there?” He quickly stuffed the guitar back into its case.  
  
At that moment, Beth had come in through the front door as well. She said nothing and walked off down the hallway.  
  
“Oh don't worry, I just got in,” Jerry's smirk was condescending as he looked down at Rick, liking the elevated position he had over the other man. “I've had a really big day and I think I just landed a new job at a big advertising firm. If I get it, we just might need you around the house to babysit a bit more, if it doesn't disrupt your work, that is. What is it you even do again? Some kinda important science stuff? It can't be that important, can it?” His eyes narrowed and his smirk was even wider now. “We never hear about it on the news or anything.”  
  
Rick glowered back at the other man with utter contempt for his entire existence, not saying anything. He didn't want to hear any of it and he didn't like the fact the other was openly mocking what he did with his time. He opened his mouth to protest, but when he saw that Beth had moved to stand behind Jerry, he knew better to just keep his mouth shut. He didn't need to do anything; the guy knew how to get himself in trouble without his help.  
  
Meanwhile, Morty wanted to play again. He sharply tugged at Rick's sleeve and made demanding nonsensical noises at him, trying to get his attention.  
  
Rick silently glared back at Jerry's smug face for another moment, locking eyes with him, wordlessly expressing the fact that he hated him with every fiber of his being. In another moment he had decided that he wanted to ignore him entirely and returned his attention towards Morty, picking him up. “Hey there, buddy,” he held him comfortably in one arm and wiggled a finger across the youngster's belly with his free hand, “I'm glad you liked it.”

“Nice to see you're able to make friends with people of your own age and maturity level there, Rick.” Jerry folded his arms, feeling confident in continuing his verbal assault. “He's cute now, but he might not like you when he's older.”  
  
That one had felt like a punch straight to the gut. He didn't show it, however. “Wow, Jerry... just wow.” Rick stayed down, glaring hard. He felt his blood boiling now, but he kept himself contained. “I was just having a private moment, trying to connect with my grandson down here. I didn't ask for any of your attitude. What did I do to you? You don't have to be a jerk about it.”  
  
“Oh, you're one to talk!” Jerry hissed back, stepping forward to stand directly over him now. He placed his hands on his hips, adopting a posture of superiority. “You openly mock me and expect me to take it from you. Screw you, Rick! What have you ever done for this family?”  
  
“Jerry?” Beth spoke behind him, her voice cool and very angry. “Why are you talking to my dad like that?”  
  
“Oh heeey, sweetheart,” Jerry flinched at her voice and turned around suddenly, offering his best pathetic grin. “I didn't see you come in. How was work...?”  
  
Beth simply folded her arms and glared at her husband, silent.  
  
“I don't like it, Jerry,” Rick continued to talk as he lowered his head, acting out his best impression of sounding hurt. He knew damn well that Beth was watching and listening to their every word and fully intended to use it to his advantage. “I come into your house, take care of your kids for you, for free I might add, and you want to behave like that towards me? Why...?” He made his voice break a little, and he knew not to overdo it in case he was caught out.

  
“Oh come on, Rick... enough with this charade. You always behave like a total douchebag towards me!” Jerry took the bait right away and raised his voice. “Don't pretend you're innocent!”  
  
“Whoa, language!” Rick protested suddenly and covered Morty's ears with his hands. “Not in front of the kid, Jer. Do you want him to have a filthy potty mouth? You want him to grow up with good influences, right?”  
  
“Good influences? You best be staying away from him then, Rick!” Jerry was yelling now. “You say far worse things than that all the time!”

“For the love of god, Jerry, just stop!” Beth snapped at him. “Stop being such an unbearable asshole to my dad! He did a huge favor for us today, did you know that? Do you know how hard it is to get a babysitter with only half an hour's notice? Do you!? Have some damn respect for the guy. We're going to talk about this in the kitchen, right now!” She grabbed her husband by the arm and hauled him away.  
  
Rick raised his head as he watched them go, a wide victorious toothy grin on his face; a dark part of him actually found it fun to play the two off against each other. He gently held Morty in his arms to keep him quiet through the screaming match that ensued in the next room over. “Try not to get yourself into that mess later in life, kiddo.” He told him quietly, his expression turning serious; this time he actually meant it. “You're perfectly fine the way you are.”  
  
After the screaming had died down, Rick got to his feet carefully, the baby still cradled in his arms. Morty had begun uncomfortably wiggling and grunting, his little belly rumbling in protest. At once he knew the kid was working on something horrible.

“Heh, what perfect timing you have.”  
  
Morty stopped wiggling after another couple of moments. He relaxed again, looking absolutely dreamily content; that one had hurt to push out.  
  
“Whew. You little stinker.” Rick wrinkled his nose at the smell in the air. He headed back out to the kitchen and handed baby Morty back over to Jerry, frowning at him. “Look, Jerry, I get it... you win. You're a real alpha male, a proud confident breadwinner. Y-you're the real man of the house, not me. So you should probably take care of this, huh? You're his father, after all.”  
  
Jerry clumsily took the youngster back, visibly cringing when the smell hit his nostrils. “Ah geez, Morty has a poopy diaper.” He turned his attention towards Beth, his expression pathetic and pleading. “Can't you do this one...? Honey?”  
  
Beth watched the two males, teary-eyed. When Jerry tried to hand her son over, she kept her arms folded, refusing to take him. “You heard him. You're quite capable of doing it yourself. Off you go.” Her reply was cool and dismissive.  
  
Jerry lowered his head in defeat and walked out of the room, carrying one very stinky baby in his arms.  
  
Rick watched him leave and waited until he was gone before speaking again. “Hey sweetie, sorry about that. I don't know what got into him.” He rubbed the back of his head, feigning his best impression of unhappiness. “I-I'm just going to take off now, it seems to be for the best... you totally have this one handled. I'll just take my guitar and leave.”  
  
“Oh geez, Dad...” Beth shook her head, feeling terrible for him. “I'm so sorry about Jerry. I don't know why he has to be such an asshole to you, but please, don't let it get to you, OK? We love you and I really valued your help today. You're a lifesaver.”  
  
Rick slowly nodded in response. He reached out to gently pat his daughter once on the shoulder and then retreated back into the lounge room to retrieve his guitar case. He headed out the front door, though he slowed down when he noticed that Beth was following in his peripheral vision. He raised an eyebrow and turned so he could look at her again, stopping on the pathway to the letterbox.  
  
“Dad?” Beth stopped as soon as he had. She placed a hand on his shoulder, sighing. “Really, I mean it. Don't let Jerry get to you, I'm sorry he's such an asshole.”  
  
“It's OK, really.” Rick replied, his voice calm. “I get it.”  
  
“Dad,” Beth said suddenly, “I'm really sorry to put this on you again, but I have to rush off to work again tomorrow morning. Can you swing by for a couple of hours and watch Morty again? Same time as today.”  
  
Rick responded with a singular nod of agreement. “Sure.” He was silent for a moment, then quietly added to the statement. “Say hi to Summer for me when you pick her up from daycare. One of these days I'll have to come over on a weekend so we can actually spend time together. Take her out to the park or some crap like that, I-I don't know what kids do these days.”  
  
“That would be really nice.” Beth squeezed his arm, suddenly feeling quite happy at the suggestion. “Thanks for taking Morty again tomorrow. He seems to really like you, and I'd rather leave him with you than a total stranger from the babysitting agency.”  
  
Rick stepped over to his car, opening up the door. “Of course.” He climbed in and shut the door, winding the window down so he could speak again. “ You can count on me any time... y-you know that, right?”  
  
“Thanks so much, Dad.” Beth sighed, smiling. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief, feeling so much better than she had a little while ago.  
  
“You're welcome, sweetie.” Rick quickly replied, and then started the car. He reversed out of the driveway and drove off down the street. Once out of view from the house, he pressed a few buttons on the center console and took it into the sky, flying off over the horizon.  
  
Tomorrow was going to be interesting. And it would be, in a way that he never would have guessed.


	2. Once Morty With Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real in dis one broh! This has been proofread and tidied twice. And also Beta-Read by the wonderful Unlvcrjchick over on Tumblr! Thank you so much!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy, created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.
> 
> Note: Tidied this chapter for repeats and grammar borks. This is the third read/tidy version, if you see any minor derps while reading, please drop me a private message and I'll fix it right away.

**Chapter 2 – Once Morty With Feeling**

**  
November 17th, 8:40 AM, 2001  
** **Suburbia  
** **Earth, Dimension Unknown  
  
  
**

\-----------------------------------

 

Rick knocked on the front door of the Smith's house but nobody answered this time. He knocked again after a moment of waiting and narrowed his eyes as he stepped back to peer through the vertical glass panels in the front door, not seeing anyone on the other side. He tried a hand on the doorknob, discovering that it was unlocked. With that observation noted, he simply took a quick chug of whiskey from his hip flask and let himself in; Beth would be expecting him by now anyway.  


People yelling at each other seemed to be rather standard fare in the household and today was no different; this time he could hear the sounds of Beth and Jerry embroiled in yet another domestic dispute, their hollering so loud that it easily echoed through the rest of the house from their position in the kitchen.  
  
“This seems to be part of the regular morning routine, huh? Well that's just fucking fantastic. What a grrrrrreee-UURRRRPat start to the morning.” Rick folded his arms across his chest, completely unimpressed.  
  
He felt a sudden bump at his lower left leg and turned his attention downwards, immediately noticing that his granddaughter was clutching at the fabric of his pants. “Oh hey there, Summer. Did you come over to say hello this time?”  
  
Summer hugged Rick's leg tighter, looking upset. “Mommy and Daddy are mad...”  
  
“Yeah kiddo, it's a tough break.” He reached down to pick the girl up, discovering that she was a lot heavier than he remembered. “Geez, I'm not going to be able to do this for much longer. Your mom said you were going to be four soon. I bet you're looking forward to getting a huge hoard of presents, huh?”  
  
Summer simply leaned into her grandfather's chest, not replying. She seemed to calm for a moment in his strong yet gentle grip, though her focus was still on the yelling in the next room.  
  
“You know, kiddo,” Rick used his free hand to lightly press his index finger on the end of her little nose. “If you don't want it, you don't have to take it from them. We are the masters of our own destiny. You don't have to put up with that shit, y-you can stop it any time you want to.”  
  
Summer blinked at him, wide-eyed. Some of what he said had gone completely over her head, but the last sentence had stuck and now she was curious. “How?”  
  
“You're a kid, do what you do best... turn it up to eleven.” Rick was smirking now. “Start up the waterworks. Pee in your pants. Throw your stuff around and have a tantrum. Hell, drop to the floor in front of them and start screaming. Y-you're the one with the power here, kiddo, not them. Make them pay attention to you.”

Rick knew damn well that he shouldn't be encouraging the kind of behavior he was suggesting, lest she use the same tactic against himself in the future. But if he could arm the young girl with a useful strategy and cheer her up again, he was willing to do whatever it took.

Summer seemed to perk up a bit at his advice. She began wiggling out of Rick's arms, her attention on the kitchen. Rick took the cue and gently set her down on the floor, tilting his head as he observed his granddaughter run off; he was genuinely curious to see how this one would play out. A rather pleased grin came over his face the moment he heard her start up the tirade of screaming; she had taken to his advice right away.

“I SO pity the idiot that tries to double-cross her one day. Heh...” He took another swig from his hip flask before stashing it in his lab coat pocket and headed into the kitchen, his expression suddenly turning to his best impression of worry.  
  
“Oh, so what's going on here?” Rick stood over Summer and motioned down at her with both hands as he glared at Jerry, then at Beth, finally fixing his attention back on Jerry. “Can you two just shut up for five minutes so this kid can have a moment of peace? Can't you see your arguing is making your kids miserable? Fix your damn marriage or get a divorce already. If you don't do something, you're going to be paying for a crap-ton of therapy for my grandkids before they even reach puberty.”  
  
“Oh god, Dad, I don't need your opinion too!” Beth made an exasperated sigh as she could smell fresh alcohol on her father's breath. She chose not to say anything about it as she stepped across the kitchen to pick up her screaming daughter, and began rocking her in her arms in an attempt to calm her down. “Look, I appreciate that you're back in our lives, but I'm not about to take parenting advice from you.” She raised both eyebrows suddenly, immediately regretting her comment. “Wow, I'm sorry. That... that came out wrong. I take it back.”  
  
“You can't take it back, sweetie.” Rick folded his arms, turning the edges his mouth down into a firm frown; that one was genuine. “You can't unpoop that turd.”  
  
“Yeah, Rick, what the hell?” Jerry suddenly piped up. “Like you know anything about parenti--”  
  
“Can this wait?” Rick rolled his eyes as he cut him off. He began idly drumming an index finger on his elbow as he spoke again. “Preferably until after I'm dead.”

  
“Why are you even here again?” Jerry leered at the other and stood tall on his heels, folding his arms, going on the defensive. “This is the second day in a row that I didn't want to see you!”  
  
“Oh shut up, Jerry. Did you forget already?” Beth snapped at him. “He's babysitting Morty again today. I have work in an hour and I thought it would be nice for him to come over earlier than yesterday so I could keep him updated.” She continued rocking Summer in her arms, seeming pleased when the young girl cuddled against her, becoming calm once more.  
  
“Updated with what?” Jerry blinked, suddenly confused. “Is there something going on that I should know about? Is there something wrong with Morty?”  
  
“No, it's just basic courtesy, Jerry!” Beth replied hotly. “Don't you think it would be nice to nice for my dad to be briefed about what's going on in our kids’ lives, rather than having to work it out for himself while I'm running out the door?” She paused deliberately, her anger rising once again. “But of course you don't think about these things, Jerry. You just palm the kids off onto me whenever anything is wrong!”  
  
Jerry just stared back at her, dumbstruck, completely silent. He had no idea how to reply to that one.  
  
“Don't worry about it, sweetie,” Rick replied instead, “I'm not as clueless as 'Mister Career' over here.” The older man raised his chin, a proud confident smirk of superiority coming over his face. “I'm a man of science. Kids are about straightforward as things come. Put food and liquids in one end, clean up whatever comes out the other. Rinse, repeat, etcetera, etcetera.” He made circular motions with his hands as he talked, indicating the constantly repeating cycle.  
  
“Beth, we'll talk about this one later, OK?” Jerry turned his attention back towards Rick. “Don't think you've gotten away with anything, pal. You know, come to think of it... maybe we should just hire a babysitter. I think I'd rather be paying for it than having to put up wi--”

  
“I'm going to stop you there, Jerry. Just stop talking.” Rick cut him off a second time and raised his right hand up, making a halting motion. He went silent and resumed folding his arms again.  
  
Jerry just stood there, dumbly blinking back at him. When Rick didn't make a reply, he opened his mouth again to speak, quiet for another couple of moments. “Umm... well? What were you going to say?”  
  
“Oh no, I didn't have anything to say.” Rick replied, his tone cold. “I just wanted you to stop talking. Do you hear the sound of that?” He put a hand to his ear and paused. “It's called silence, Jerry. It's you, not talking. It's beautiful. I like it. I like it a lot.” A smug grin came over his face once again; he just couldn't help himself. This was far too much fun.

“Oh screw you, Rick!” Jerry was yelling now. “There you go again, listen to him openly mocking me, Beth!” He turned to face her, still yelling. “Look at him! He's HAPPY about it! Your father picks on me all the time and you do nothing! Why don't you ever do anything about it?!”  
  
“Jerry, I don't have time to do this anymore.” Beth repositioned Summer in her arms as she was getting heavy and uncomfortable to hold. “And neither do you, look at the time. You're going to be late for work.” She shook her head. “On your first day, too. How sad.” It was sarcasm. Her expression was flat; she wasn't sad at all.  
  
“What?!” Jerry suddenly looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Oh my god, why didn't you tell me!? I have to get going right away!” He dashed out of the room again, leaving the rest of his family behind in the kitchen.  
  
“Wow, he seems organized.” Rick's eyes tracked the other as he watched him go.  
  
“Oh be quiet, Dad, just let him be. You have to admit that you pressed all the wrong buttons just now and wound him up for fun.” Beth sighed in frustration. She set Summer down on the floor and crouched down onto her knees to kiss her forehead. “Go watch TV, sweetie. Play with your toys, I'll come get you when it's time to go to daycare.”  
  
Summer happily ran off down the hallway, returning to the living room.  
  
“I'm sorry, sweetie,” Rick began to explain, not even a hint of apology in his voice, “I try to be nice, but he dragged it out of me.” That was a lie, too; both of them knew damn well that it had been fun, Beth had even said so herself. He knew not to push it anymore and took out his hip flask, taking another couple of small sips from it. Instead of pocketing it right away, he held it in his right hand this time, figuring he would probably need it again soon.  
  
“Look Dad, I...” Beth trailed off as she rose up, correcting her posture to stand once again. She stared at the open flask and placed a hand on her forehead, releasing a heavy sigh of frustration; it made her extremely irritated that her father was drinking again and she held back the desire to launch into another tirade about his alcohol abuse.

Rick just stood there, idly drumming an index finger on the side of the flask as he patiently waited for her to continue.  
  
“No, you know what?” Beth shook her head and waved her hands out in front of her, dismissing the whole thing. “I can't deal with this right now. I'm running out of time and you need to know what's going on.”  
  
“Oh... o-okay?” Rick raised an eyebrow. Now even he was curious; this was the second time she was mentioning it and he began wondering if something was legitimately wrong. He opened his mouth to say something else, but out came a loud rumbling burp instead. He used the back of his left hand to wipe the drool off his mouth.  
  
“Just forget it.” Beth said suddenly. “Follow me upstairs, there's a lot I have to get off my mind.”  
  
Rick nodded silently and pocketed the flask again, following. Beth made her way to the top of the staircase, headed down the hallway and turned right straight into Morty's room. The blonde haired woman wasted no time moving the distance across the room to the crib and peered down over the edge, sighing. Just looking down at the little boy made her feel so much better already.  
  
Morty didn't acknowledge his mother's presence. He was still very much asleep and on his left side, curled up in a fetal position. He slept with his mouth open and was drooling. His breathing was slow, even and calm; he was a picture of peacefulness.  
  
“They're always so cute when they're asleep.” Beth smiled, suddenly filled with a sense of proud giddy happiness just looking down at her baby son. “Just look at him, Dad. Isn't he adorable?”  
  
Rick stood beside her and peered down momentarily. “Yeah, I-I guess they're like that for a while.” He stood up again and folded his arms across his chest. “Then they get bigger. Then they're a giant thorn in your ass, and then they start asking for money. One day you have the cutest kid in the entire universe. Next thing you know, your wife is cheating on you with some arrogant eff-tard of a doctor just because he has a fancy-ass car and a lot of money.” His expression darkened as he scowled, his brows furrowing as deeply as they would go. “And a tiny dick.” He added the last part with particular vitriol.  
  
Beth sighed at him. “Dad...”  
  
Rick glared down at the floor, ignoring her. “One day you're tricked into thinking you're happy, but it's a lie. The next thing you know, they have you by the balls and you realize that you were better off alone.” He knew he was rambling now, but for some reason, he couldn't stop. “Then you're halfway across the fucking universe tied up in some stupid game of...” He caught himself finally, surprised at how quickly that had all slipped out. “Whatever. I don't care.”  
  
“Dad...”  
  
“You can ask, but it's not going to happen,” Rick grunted back at her. “C-can't do it. I just can't get sentimental about this kind of stuff anymore.” He raised his head again reluctantly, half expecting Beth to be looking at him with that dumb expression of pity she often took on him. Instead, she was smiling at him and he raised both eyebrows suddenly, taken aback; he couldn't work out why.  
  
“Oh, Dad,” Beth sighed at him, “I asked you to come up here so I could talk to you and now you're the one doing the talking. It sounds like you need to let it out more than I do.”  
  
“Tch!” Rick suddenly turned his head away, glaring. “S-shut up...” He took his hip flask out again, unscrewing the cap. “You make it sound like it's a fart or something.”  
  
Beth ignored the remark and stared directly at the flask. “If there's ever anything you need help with,” she deliberately paused, hoping he would get the clue, “I'm here for you, Dad.”

  
Rick loudly snorted in response, positively disgusted. He knew exactly what she had meant and didn't want to get into it. He simply went silent again and averted his attention to the door, already having half a mind to just leave. Either way, he was absolutely fed up with the whole conversation. He had no skill in conveying 'please stop talking about this subject' whatsoever.  
  
Beth decided to let him go; she knew she was pushing too far and could see that her father was just mentally blocking her out. She instead returned her attention back down to her sleeping son and decided to change the subject. “There are a couple of things I need to tell you, Dad. I took Morty to the pediatrician last week because he was due for his next round of vaccinations. Not only that, I took him because he's still not talking... at all. He still only makes basic communicative sounds and gestures. Everything else is fine, he's healthy and happy and I should be grateful about that, but...”  
  
“I'm going to stop you right there. Why do we keep talking about this?” Rick grunted in frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose, still very much riled up and angry from before. “I've told you time and time again, stop worrying about it, he'll be fine. Some kids take longer at this stuff than others. Be thankful for the fact he's not talking... once they start, they never frickin' shut up.” He took another swig of his hip flask and finally put it away again. He wanted to down the whole thing after what had happened, but he knew that he had to be a responsible adult today.  
  
“I know, I know, I shouldn't be worried, but...” Beth sighed, shaking her head. “The pediatrician wanted to do a blood test to make sure there's not something more serious going on, because--”  
  
“Because there isn't.” Rick cut her off, narrowing his eyes.  
  
“Dad, shut the hell up and let me finish!” Beth snapped at him.  
  
Rick raised his eyebrows at her, pulled an irritated face, then resumed glaring back at the doorway. He decided he would just be silent now, because it was easier that way. All he wanted now was to hurry it along and be done with it so Beth would just go away already and leave him be with the kid.  
  
“Anyway, we got the results back from the blood test,” Beth continued. “His Vitamin D is low. He needs to go out in the sunlight for at least 15 minutes every day. He could also do with gaining a bit more weight. As for the talking, the pediatrician asked us to just talk to him more often. She said that if he keeps hearing us talk, he'll pick it up and start talking back.”  
  
Rick looked back at her this time, one eyebrow raised; was she trying to imply something? “I talk to him.” He replied simply after another moment of silence.  
  
“Dad, don't bullshit me. I know you, why would you want to talk to a baby? You don't even like talking to Jerry.”

“That's different, Beth.”

“How so?” Beth was genuinely curious now.

“Kids are generally stupid because they haven't matured enough to know any better, but they're still making thousands of neural connections every day so they still have potential.” Rick sounded vaguely irritated that he even needed to explain this. “Jerry is an adult, he's fully matured. If you can call it that... point is, there's no hope for him.” He shook his head, frustrated. “If I had a whiteboard, I would draw up a diagram for you, i-it's a big bell curve that demonstrates intelligence. Most people fall in the middle of it. Jerry, though? He's sitting right at the bottom left. He's not just a regular idiot, nope, I've seen far too many of those in my time. Hell, Jerry makes some of those dumbasses look smart... he's the dumbest idiot in the entire universe.”  
  
“Wow, ooookaaay.” Beth's reply was sharp; she was totally done talking to her father about this. She knew she probably deserved it though, and couldn't even berate him for turning the conversation back to Jerry again because she was the one who had brought it up in the first place.  
  
Rick casually shrugged at her. “I'm only stating the facts here, Beth.”  
  
The blonde haired woman sighed in exasperation as she looked down at her watch, making note of the time. “I can't do this anymore, Dad. I have to go to work. Remember what I said... stuff Morty full of snacks if he has any desire to eat something. Make sure you take him out, he needs sunlight.”  
  
“Got it.” Rick grunted; he was totally done with the conversation.  
  
Beth's eyes widened as she suddenly remembered something. She reached under the changing table and pulled out a large baby-blue cloth bag with a singular strap on it. “Here,” she held it out for him to take, “I packed this for you. It's stuffed full of diapers and pretty much everything else he'll need. There's a stroller in the garage if you want to use it.”  
  
Rick made a noise somewhere between irritation and disgust. “No.” He grabbed the bag by the handle and immediately dumped it on the floor at his feet. “I don't want to touch that stupid torture device with wheels, i-it's embarrassing. It's also a huge waste of space. I'll just drive somewhere and walk around with him, he's easy enough to carry.”  
  
“You're going to walk it, Dad.” Beth's voice suddenly became dangerous and authoritative. “You've already had too much to drink this morning and I don't want you getting done by the cops for driving under the influence.”  
  
“Watch it!” Rick sharply retorted, narrowing his eyes at her.

Beth ignored him. “I have a baby harness if you want that.” She had to smile just a little at the mental image those words conjured up; the thought of her father carrying Morty on his back was kind of cute. “I got it from one of my old friends during Morty's baby shower, but it was too big when he was born. He's easily big enough for it now, but I've never used it. The only reason I didn't throw it away is because it was one of the good quality ones with the anti-puke guard on it.”  
  
Rick couldn't have given a damn about the story behind the thing, but shutting up was easier than getting into another argument. He folded his arms once more, making no secret of the fact that he was utterly, utterly bored.  
  
“I think it's still in one of the boxes in the garage. Just look for the ones marked 'baby stuff'. It's black.” Beth hurriedly stepped towards the door, stopping in the doorway to look back at him. “Oh, and make sure you change him when he wakes up. He's going to be soaking wet. Sorry I didn't have the time to do it first.” She stepped out into the hallway and walked away.

“Bye.” It didn't come out kindly; the conversation had gone on far too long for his liking and he was relieved to see his daughter leave him in the quiet with his sleeping grandson.  
  
Rick kicked at the bag at his feet as a means to dissipate some of his anger. He also hated looking at it; it was far too big for his liking and he knew that he would look positively ridiculous hauling it around. He took a moment to inhale deeply, filling up his lungs with air. He held the breath in for a moment and sighed on the exhale; he needed to calm down.  
  
As he leaned over the edge of the crib, he began to wonder if the anger was coming from all the events he had been through in life thus far, or because of how intelligent he was compared to everything else that existed. Perhaps it was because everything in the universe also happened to be incredibly stupid and pointless to begin with, or maybe the anger was just rooted in the fact that he was just turning into a crotchety old man.  
  
_“Probably all of those things.”_ He thought to himself. Getting older wasn't something he wanted to think about, but he knew it was one of the inevitable truths of the universe; everything had a lifespan. Everything from bacteria to larger lifeforms, to suns, to entire galaxy systems. Even the universe itself had a lifespan. Nothing would last forever; everything was going to die eventually.

He pushed it out of his mind like so many other thoughts before it.  
  
When Morty began stirring, his attention turned downwards. The baby had started moving as he began to wake up and made small pathetic noises in discomfort.

Rick knew what would come next if he left it too long so he picked the child up and cradled him in his arms. “Hey there, little buddy. Glad to see you're finally awake. Thank god you slept through most of that mess, it's been a really shitty morning for everyone.”  
  
Morty cracked his eyes open and looked up; this wasn't his mother. He wanted her company. Out of all the people he knew, he was attached to her the most. His pathetic sounds grew into louder grumpy noises and he twisted his mouth into a very unhappy expression.  
  
“What are you whining about now?” Rick grumbled, his voice somehow still remaining quiet and gentle as he spoke. “A-are you in a bad mood because you just woke up? Yeah, I get that.” He moved the youngster over his shoulder and began patting his back in an attempt to soothe him. Somewhere downstairs, he heard Summer screaming again; Beth was obviously trying to get her out of the house. He couldn't help but smirk a little; that girl was a quick learner.  
  
Morty seemed to calm again with the change of height; he had a short attention span and soon forgot what had made him upset. He made a few more fussing noises as he quietened down and yawned, still in the process of waking up properly.  
  
“Yeah, see. It wasn't a big deal, was it?” Rick just held him there for a couple of moments, waiting to see if his calming mood was only temporary or not. “Y-you actually know how to let shit go. I'm proud of you, little buddy.” He heard the door shut downstairs, which meant that they had the house all to themselves. He could do whatever the hell he wanted to.

Perfect.

“So what do you want to do today, kiddo?” Although he knew he wasn't going to get a reply, he asked anyway.  
  
Morty was too busy looking at the colorful decals on his walls to pay attention and respond. He tried to reach out towards them and made a soft noise, expressing his interest in the shapes.  
  
Rick took the opportunity to carry his grandson over to the changing table while he was still quiet, getting done what he needed to with minimal fuss, thankful for the fact there wasn't a giant pile of shit waiting for him this time. After the little boy had been stripped of his clothes and cleaned up properly, he tossed the diaper into the trash and the onesie into the laundry basket.  
  
He drew up both of the baby's legs in the fingers of one hand and dusted his butt off with a bottle of baby powder he held in the other. Rick closed the bottle and tossed it back into the drawers on the changing table. He wasted no time placing the new diaper on and took a moment to brush his fingers against Morty's bare stomach as he did up the tabs.  
  
Morty made a loud sudden squeal of laughter in reaction to the tickling and squirmed around on the table.  
  
Rick immediately thought better of it and stopped, planting a firm hand on the little boy's belly to hold him in place. “Yeaaaaah, it was a bad idea. Don't move around too much while you're up here, kiddo. Don't fall off, either... that's the last thing I want to happen today.”  
  
Morty looked back up at him and reached up, grabbing at the air. Rick guessed that he either wanted to be picked up, or he wanted another round at attacking his thick head of spiky hair. With one hand still planted firmly on the little boy, he reached across to the drawers full of clothing nearby. He grabbed up some warm clothes and began dressing him; if they were going out, he would need them on.

Morty actually sat patiently this time and let it happen. He was in a good mood, that was for sure.  
  
Rick picked him up again once he was done, holding him over his head victoriously, almost like a trophy, ridiculously pleased with how easy it had been this time around. “Ohhhh yeaahh!” He loudly cheered, a wide grin on his face. “Not even an ounce of resistance that time. If only you could behave like that more often, huh?” He lowered the little boy once again, knowing full well that if he held him up in the air too long, he was leaving himself open to being puked on.

Morty was positively elated to be held up so high and squealed, joining in with his grandfather's cheering. He looked down at Rick while he was overhead, staring down at his grandfather's wild-eyed, crazy face, responding with a squeal of sheer joy to his happiness.  
  
“Good work, little buddy. Keep it up.” Rick placed him over his left shoulder once again, firmly holding him in place as he used his right hand to pick up the cloth bag. “Come with me, we gotta go through some useless shit in the garage if we wanna go out today.” He walked out of the bedroom and briskly walked off down the hallway. In another moment, he was down the stairs and in the garage.  
  
Morty made soft curious noises the whole way; he was used to exploring and getting into whatever he could already, but the new height made the whole house look different and offered a new interesting perspective to him.

Once in the garage, Rick set Morty down in the middle of the floor. “Stay there.” He instructed with sudden sharpness, pointing at him. He moved over to the laundry sink and began to wash his hands off; he had been meaning to do that as soon as possible. “I-I mean it this time. This isn't like yesterday with the toy box in your room, kid. Stuff can hurt you out here. There are also chemicals stored out here that will kill you if you ingest them.”  
  
Morty stayed put initially, sitting squarely on his butt. Though, as he looked around the room, he already saw so many interesting things he could get into. He peered back at Rick as if to check to see what he was doing, then put his hands on the ground, clumsily pushing himself onto his feet.  
  
Rick narrowed his eyes, watching his grandson in his peripheral vision the entire time. He could already see that the youngster's mind was processing what to do with the new environment and when he saw him stand up, he felt his anger rising. He promptly shut off the water tap and strode across the room in three rushed steps, snatching the little boy up off his feet. “What did I just say to you?!” It came out much louder and more harsh than he had intended.

Morty visibly flinched at Rick's outburst; it frightened the hell out of him. His bottom lip quivered and he scrunched up his brow, loudly whimpering. His eyes were brimming with tears and in another instant, he was loudly crying, afraid.  
  
It felt like a kick straight to the gut. “Holy shit...” Rick was a sudden mixture of guilt and regret, his anger dissipating instantly. He hadn't been prepared for that kind of reaction at all; his baby grandson was now crying solely because of him. “Hey buddy, I-I didn't mean it like that. I'm really sorry.” He drew the youngster into his chest with a hug, patting his back.

Morty continued his miserable wailing despite the fact that Rick was holding onto him. He flailed his arms in protest and began trying to hit him; all he wanted right now was his mother.  
  
Rick simply held onto the youngster and let him cry it out. The flailing limbs and strikes to his chest didn't hurt at all, but he felt utterly shitty with himself for it anyway. He continued to pat the kid's back, trying to reassure him with words. “Calm down, Morty. Come on.” He lowered his head, lightly bumping his chin on the little boy's shoulder. “I really am sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just... I-I didn't want to see you get hurt.”  
  
As Morty calmed down again, he continued with soft fussing noises, still very clearly upset. Rick stood upright once more and returned the baby to where he had been over his shoulder, conceding to the fact that it was his fault. As he heard his grandson's complaints, his mind began processing what had just happened; he knew that it certainly wasn't going to be the last time this would occur because he was an angry, bitter man by nature and prone to exploding into wild fits of rage at the drop of a pin. That was just the kind of person he was and who he had always been. People either accepted it or avoided him entirely, which he was perfectly fine with. Morty, however, was far too young to have any kind of buffer to deal with it. Rick made a mental note to keep his anger in check in the presence of his grandson while he was still this small; he did not want it happening again.  
  
Rick firmly held onto the youngster in one hand as he resumed going through the boxes in the garage with the other, wanting to get his mind off it entirely. Now that he thought about it, it annoyed him that none of these boxes had labels on them. He pulled one down from the highest level of shelving, disappointed to discover that it was just full of trinkets from Jerry's boy scouting days.  
  
“Dumb.” Rick let the box crash onto the floor. When he heard several items break, he was sure to kick it for good measure, making sure to break whatever was left intact inside. It made him feel a little better.  
  
Morty was finally quiet again. He turned his head towards the floor after hearing the smashing noises, wanting to observe what the strange person was doing with it all.  
  
Rick was glad to see Morty's calm state of mind return. He pulled out another unmarked box, letting that one crash to the floor as well. He had to laugh to himself as he heard more things break inside; he had always gained a strange sense of satisfaction in destroying things.  
  
“Serves you right for not labeling your shit.” He muttered aloud to nobody in particular. He stepped back, his eyes scanning the shelves once again. Then his gaze locked onto the only box on the lowest shelf that had a label written on it - 'baby stuff.’ He felt a little bit silly with how obvious it was.  
  
“At least I found it. Fuck yeah!” Rick called out happily as he dragged the box out across the floor. He crouched down beside it and set Morty down next to him, immediately using both hands to tear off the lid. “Hey, check this out with me, little buddy. What do you think is in here?”  
  
Morty didn't answer. He was already turning away and looking at the lawnmower in the corner of the garage; it was huge and he wanted to play with it. He took a step towards it, wide-eyed and curious.  
  
“I said no.” Rick grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him back. “We're not doing that again so soon. Seriously, kiddo, Grandpa says no. And that's a bigger 'no' than when your mom says it, because I outrank her. Why don't you look at this stuff instead?” He tipped the box onto its side, spilling out half the contents, disappointed to discover that it was mostly old baby clothes and that nearly all of them were pink; they had obviously belonged to Summer.

“Well, fuck that.” He stepped over the pile and moved away to pull more boxes out from the lowest shelf. Now that he was standing upright, he took the opportunity to take another swig from his hip flask; it was nearly empty. He would have to buy more when they were out.  
  
Morty took the opportunity to get stuck into the box right away. He clumsily fell onto the pile of clothes and began distributing the remaining contents across the floor; doing this was entirely familiar to him because he did it all the time with his toys. At the very bottom of the box was the baby harness that Rick had been looking for the whole time. He was ignorant to this, however; it was just something to pull on and throw.

Rick had been watching the youngster from the side. When he saw the harness hit the ground, he turned back towards his grandson, seeming pleased. “You little turd.” He wasted no time reaching over to pick it up, wanting to check it over and make sure that it was still safe for use. Once satisfied with his inspection, he took off his lab coat and dumped it at his feet so he could put his arms in the straps, clicking the buckles securely around his waist. “Well, it's functional...” He had to admit. Though, he quickly decided that he thought it looked stupid.  
  
Meanwhile, Morty's attention had turned to the crumpled lab coat and he clumsily walked over, having decided he wanted to play with that, too. He grabbed up a huge chunk of the cloth in his little hands and all kinds of things began to scatter out of the inner pockets in the sudden movement; first a screwdriver, then Rick's hip flask, then some loose change. His cellphone hit the floor shortly afterwards. Several small electrical components bounced across the floor and one of his crystallized electrodes made a loud smashing noise when it hit the ground.

Rick sighed at the sound, torn between stopping him right away and letting him do his thing. While he didn't want to stop the youngster's fun, he didn't want more of his stuff getting broken either. “Does my coat really entertain you that much, little buddy?” He idly scratched the side of his head. “Phh... you're too easy to impress, even if you are a baby.”

Morty made nonsensical happy sounds as he continued to shake the coat fabric, enjoying the fact that what he was doing was making all sorts of interesting noises. He shook the coat again and giggled when Rick's portal gun fell out of the top pocket and clattered across the floor.  
  
When the scientist saw the device hit the floor, his ability to tolerate the situation had deteriorated entirely. “OK, that's enough.” Rick stepped in to stand over Morty, his arms folded across his chest as he gave him a stern look of disapproval. Of all the things he owned, that was the one thing he wouldn't be able to forgive if it got broken. “Stop.”  
  
Morty looked up at him, blinking. He recognized the word and did as he was told. He whimpered a little, not liking the fact that this strange man was getting angry with him again.  
  
As much as the older man didn't want to escalate the situation further, he had to let his grandson know that it wasn't cool with him. “A-are you done?” He reached down to pick Morty up, promptly placing him into the harness so that he was facing outwards. He secured him in with the straps and pulled on them to make sure they were secure. “Look, I know it was fun and that you're learning about cause and effect, but...” He motioned to the mess on the ground near his coat. “Don't do it at the expense of my science stuff, i-it's important to my work. You gotta know when to stop.” His attention was back on the floor again, and although he was annoyed about the fact that his electrode was now nothing more than little pink shards, he was thankful that nothing more had been broken.

Morty wiggled in the harness, a little upset that he couldn't go anywhere. He made a soft grunting noise in protest as he flailed his limbs, whacking his grandfather in the chest in the process. No aggression was meant in the gesture at all; he just wanted to move.  
  
Rick retrieved his lab coat and put it back on, ignoring the fact that he was being beaten up by a baby. He crouched down on the floor and began picking up the loose items to place back in their respective pockets. Once he had the portal gun in his hands, he stood up again and checked it over to make sure it hadn't been damaged. When he realized it was perfectly fine, he was calm again.  
  
“Look, buddy, I know this is hard for you to understand because your mom probably hasn't set any boundaries or limitations with you yet, but,” Rick held the portal gun out in front of him so his grandson could get a better look at it. “This is my quantum multidimensional portal device, or 'portal gun' to you. I do a lot of great stuff with this thing and I need you to remember not to touch it. In fact, l-let's just make that rule number three right now – don't touch the portal gun. If we were listing these rules in order of importance, this one would be at the top. Got it?”  
  
Morty stared at the strange gadget but made no attempt to grab it. He began wiggling, frustrated; he was getting bored.  
  
“Remember, kiddo,” Rick spoke again, wanting to make sure it was going to stick. “No touchy Grandpa's portal gun. Ever.” He slipped the device into the back pocket of his pants, not wanting to make it accessible to the kid in any way.  
  
Morty's reply was louder frustrated noises this time; he was becoming angry. He was bored, he couldn't move, and he was getting sick of standing there. To make matters worse, he was starting to get hungry.  
  
“OK, OK, I get it,” Rick shook his head. “Let's go out already, sheesh.”  
  


\---------------------------------  
  
  
It was cold outside because winter was due next month, but the sun was out, the sky was clear, and the air temperature was warm enough for a nice walk. As he strolled along the sidewalk at a brisk pace, Rick had his hands stuffed in his pockets, a baby strapped into a harness at his chest, and an oversized bag hauled over his back. He was positively certain that he looked utterly ridiculous, but Morty was content so he really didn't care what other people might think.  
  
Talking to him was another thing entirely, however; he simply wouldn't tolerate that. People were already looking at him as he passed by and he hated it. Some of them had sappy looks on their dumb faces, and even Rick couldn't deny that the sight of an attractive looking guy like himself carrying around a young child was probably appealing to somebody. He still didn't want to talk, though; strangers often had some kind of compulsion to start conversations with people whenever they saw them with a baby.

His pace quickened as he saw a woman with two children of her own stop to open her mouth, looking at him. He didn't even regard her and he kept going. “Nope.”

He shot death glares at more people as they passed by and it was an effective strategy, because nobody else talked him as he made his way to the liquor store.  
  
“Quick detour, buddy, I'm running low and need to stock up.” Rick told the little kid as he pushed the door open, stepping inside. He wasted no time disappearing down the aisle he needed to go, quickly grabbing up two bottles of the good, expensive stuff. He paid for them at the front counter and once he was outside again, he hastily crouched down in the gutter to cram his new purchases into the cloth bag. He was genuinely surprised at the fact that there was still somehow room in there amongst all the other clutter.

Morty was slipping into a bad mood. He was frustrated that he wasn't getting the older man's attention and he hadn't liked the smell of the liquor store. He made loud grumpy noises and waved his arms up, trying to hit Rick in the face.

“Yeah yeah, I know. D-don't rush me, kid, I'm going as fast as I can.” Rick kept his head out of the way as he hauled the bag back onto his back, standing up once again. “We're going already. Quit the tough guy act, you're really trying my patience right now...” He muttered under his breath. “Freakin' lunatic piece of shit.” He knew he was grumpy and needed another drink.

As Rick headed down the road and into the park, Morty's mood picked up considerably. He could hear and see other children screaming and running around the playground equipment and he wanted to be over with them. He also saw a sandpit, but the play equipment was far more interesting at the moment. He made a loud defiant noise up at his grandfather and gestured towards the playground, pointing at it.

“Yeah, I know,” Rick grunted at him. “That's why we're here, kiddo.” He took out his hip flask and took a swig, keeping it in his right hand. “Th-that, and... Vitamin D. Sunlight and all that nature bullshi-UURRRPt.”  
  
Morty giggled at the loud burping noise; he had definitely forgotten what he had been complaining about before.  
  
Rick sat down after finding a pleasant shady spot under a tree. “OK buddy, here's rule number four - stay where I can see you.” He set the bag down beside him and began to undo the baby harness straps with his left hand. “You gotta listen to me on this one, kiddo, i-it's important. It might not seem like it, but it is. If you get too far away, I can't guarantee your safety if something goes wrong.”  
  
Morty wasn't listening. He pointed to the playground equipment again.  
  
Rick set him down in the grass and leaned back against the tree, taking another swig from the flask. “Fine, kiddo, off you go. Ju-URRRRRPPst remember that you should listen when Grandpa says something, because it's r-really good advice. Don't come back crying if you hurt yourself, you'll get no sympathy from me.” The last part was a lie, but at least it sounded authoritative.  
  
Morty immediately took five quick clumsy steps towards the playground, tripping over on the sixth, falling flat on his face in the grass. It didn't seem to faze him at all and he pushed himself onto his feet and ran again, falling over a second time.  
  
As Rick observed the young boy, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow; it was painfully apparent that Morty was terrible at running. He was still trying to get it down properly, but at least he kept trying. When he saw the youngster fall over the third time, he rose to his feet and moved over to scoop him up, holding him under his left arm like a beer keg.  
  
“Yeah, OK. You proved your point, I know you wanna go over there. G-good job, buddy.” He carried him the rest of the way as a means of making amends for how sour he'd been earlier. Once he had placed the kid back down on the ground again, he stepped back to observe what would happen.  
  
Morty looked at the playground equipment first, then at the sandpit. He pushed himself onto his feet and headed for the sandpit. It was something new that he'd never seen before and he wanted to find out more about it.  
  
“Make up your damn mind...” Rick muttered aloud. “Just don't throw any of that stuff around because it hurts when it gets in your eyes.” He paused, quickly adding, “and if you see any other kids throwing it around, kick their ass. Again, this is coming from Grandpa,” he motioned to himself, “so it's really good advice.”

Morty sat down on his butt, wasting no time to mash his fingers into the sand. It felt nice in his hands and he began making it into little piles.  
  
Rick figured he would probably be occupied for a while, so he sat down on the edge of the sandpit to supervise. However, his mind began wandering as it always did and he began wondering why kids would find sand so interesting; it was just a byproduct of erosion. Even diatomaceous earth would be more interesting, if he cared about mineralogy. But he didn't. At all.

“Remember, little buddy, the playground is for everyone.” Rick said suddenly. “So don't let any of the other kids push you around. Just because you're little, it doesn't mean you should put up with it. Kick the other kids’ asses if you have to.”  
  
A nearby parent was glaring hard at him now, having overheard the conversation. However, Rick couldn't have cared less. He took another swig from his open hip flask and shrugged back at her. “Don't judge me, I'm a single parent and struggling with a mortgage.” It was a bold-faced lie, but she didn't need to know that. If it would make her back off, he was willing to say anything.

The lady didn't seem to care about his story as she angrily talked down to him. “You are the rudest person I have ever met. Your child is going to grow up to be horrible with that kind of parenting!”  
  
“Oh screw you, don't be a judgmental bitch.” Rick stayed down, though he made the effort to glare back at her. “What the hell do you know about parenting? I bet your kid walks into walls on purpose. You're probably a moron, too, everyone on this damn planet is. You wanna know something? Your life is a lie, and everything's going to die eventually. Hopefully you do sooner, rather than later.” He took another sip from the flask. “If you died right now, I wouldn't have to listen to your bullshit any more. T-that would be grea-UURRPPt.”  
  
“Oh my god, get out of here before I call the cops!”  
  
“Try it, bitch.” Rick snapped back at her, then downed the remaining contents of his hip flask. “S-see how well that goes for yo-UURRRPPu. Unless I get violent, which I'm not going to do, they usually take hours to come. We'll be gone long before then.” He was surprisingly calm considering the circumstances.  
  
Morty was digging his hands through the sand, not seeming to care that his grandfather was arguing with somebody. He was used to people doing that in his household and unless somebody was directly yelling at him, he was relatively immune to the sound. After spending another moment sifting through the sand, he found something squishy and picked it up, discovering that it was a piece of candy; some other kid must have dropped it earlier. He popped it straight into his mouth.  
  
“Wow, great father you are,” the lady was suddenly condescending. “Your kid just ate something.”  
  
“Huh?” Rick turned around, his eyes widening as he saw Morty chewing on something. “You little piece of shit! What is that? Spit it out!” By the time he grabbed Morty and tried prying his mouth open, the youngster had already swallowed it.  
  
“Damn it!” Rick stashed his empty hip flask back in his coat pocket and picked Morty up, carrying him all the way back to the tree they had been sitting under earlier. “Goddamn it, kiddo, why did you have to do that?” He sat on the grass and dropped the little boy down next to the bag he had left there.

His mind was racing; his first concern was that Morty had swallowed something toxic. He leaned over the little boy and forced his mouth open with two fingers. He vaguely considered sticking them further back to make Morty throw up, but figured that would be too rash of an action in the immediate; he wanted to make it as quick and hassle-free as possible.  
  
Despite Morty's sudden loud protests, Rick persisted. He made sure his fingers were nice and slobbery before withdrawing them again. “You fucking little turd! D-don't ever do this to me again, OK?” He rubbed the saliva between his index finger and thumb and raised his hand to his nose so he could sniff, trying to discern what it was. When he discovered that the saliva was tacking and sticky as it dried and that the lingering scent was unmistakably sweet in nature, he calmed down a little. He reasoned that it was probably just sugar, which would have made sense; children didn't normally eat something if it tasted bad. He wiped the slobber off onto the lapels of his lab coat and exhaled sharply, releasing some of his frustration.  
  
Morty backed away from his grandfather and made loud grumbling noises in protest of the invasion. To his credit, he didn't cry about it - yet. He just really didn't like what had happened.  
  
Rick buried his head in his hands for a moment; he needed to calm himself down properly. “Don't ever do that to me again.” He raised his head again, giving the young kid an intense glare of disapproval. “You have food already, why do you have to put everything in your mouth? Don't eat stuff you find lying around! Thank god it wasn't a poisonous bug or a cat turd. Do you want toxoplasmosis, Morty? Do you?!”  
  
Morty's reply was a loud whining noise and knew he was in trouble.

Rick knew what was coming next; he rolled his eyes and picked the youngster up, setting him in his lap so he could pat his back in an attempt to soothe him. “Look, it's not that bad, you're not going to die. Sorry to violate you like that, buddy. Just... s-stop scaring the shit out of me, OK?”  
  
The two sat there, quiet. Rick needed time to calm down again and Morty did, too. They sat in the silence of each other for a while and Rick turned his attention to the kids playing nearby, just idly patting his grandson's back. Soon enough, Morty began to fall asleep on him. Rick allowed him that, figuring having some downtime to rest after everything that had happened would do him some good. The scientist put his head back and closed his eyes, figuring that now would be a good time to take a nap himself.

He didn't know whether it was the screaming children playing nearby or the low humming noise that caused his mind to stir again.

He would have sat bolt upright if not for the sleeping child in his lap. As Rick raised an eyebrow and listened attentively, he was able to discern that the faint humming noise was coming from somewhere very high overhead. As it got louder and lower, his eyes narrowed; was he going crazy? Was that really what he thought it was?  
  
“No... it can't be...” He picked Morty up, almost holding onto him too roughly in his worry. He stepped out from under the tree, his attention glued to the sky. He hoped to see a plane, a helicopter, anything that he could confirm was just normal air traffic noise.  
  
When he saw nothing, it didn't reassure him. He simply couldn't put it out of his mind again; he had heard that same sound many years ago when he had lived another life entirely, and bad memories always came with it. It was a completely unmistakable sound, and one that he would never forget in a million years.  
  
When it got louder, his heart began to pound in his ears. It was most definitely the sound of plasma fuel engines; something from another part of the galaxy had entered the atmosphere. Even worse, he couldn't do anything about it in the immediate because his ship was back at the house.  
  
In the next couple of moments, Rick's worst fears were confirmed; the shapes of five Galactic Federation transportation ships were very clearly visible in the sky, most recognizable by their bug-green color and the two elongated, toothy prongs which pointed to the front of each vehicle; they couldn't have been mistaken for anything else. They descended sharply, now only a few hundred feet overhead. He saw four more rocket past, their engines humming at a high pitch as they flew off elsewhere.  
  
“Fuck...” Now he had already seen nine of them, and he still didn't have his ship.  
  
Rick wasn't going to stand there any longer. His heart was still hammering as he placed Morty into the baby harness at his chest, pulling the straps closed and secure around the little boy. To his credit, Morty still wasn't awake. Rick hauled the cloth bag over his back and broke into a sprint, running back towards the house as fast as he could.  
  
“What the fuck are they doing here? How did they find Earth?! HOW?!” He had a million questions and his mind was racing now, but he didn't have time to stop and think about it. He fumbled through his lab coat pockets, quickly finding his cell phone. His hands were shaking as he dialed Beth's number, but somehow he still managed the feat. As he could hear the phone ringing, it felt like it was taking forever. There was a click sound, and then Beth picked up.  
  
“Hey Dad, what's up?” She was too happy, which meant that the woman literally had no idea what was going on.  
  
“Beth, sweetie,” Rick said hurriedly, trying to sound as calm as possible, though he knew he was utterly failing at it, especially as his voice began to break in panic. “Where are you right now?”  
  
“Dad, I'm still at work.” Her reply was still far too happy initially, but then there was a suspicious pause. “What's going on?” She had picked up on his tone and it immediately reflected in her response.  
  
“Where's Summer, Beth? Where's Summer?!” Rick tried to keep himself calm, but his voice had already betrayed him. He panted and kept running.  
  
“Dad, what's going on...?”  
  
“Get out of there, Beth! Get Summer, and get back to the hou--” Rick replied quickly, having to cut himself off as he began to cough.  
  
“Dad, are you OK? What's going on?!”  
  
“Just... j-just fucking get out of there as quickly as you can! Drop your shit and run. Do you hear me?! Dr-drop your shit and run, Beth! There's no time to explain, just get back to the fucking house!”

He hung up on her and kept running. He needed to get back to his ship as quickly as possible, or else everything would be utterly, royally screwed.

 


	3. Riggity Riggity Wrecked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick has managed to piss off the entire Galactic Federation, and well, they're back. Whoops!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy, created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. 
> 
> The original version of this was sloppy and had typos that escaped the spellchecker. It was also missing descriptions and repeated other info. Now it's fixed and redone for AO3! This chapter contains some major GET REKT'D.
> 
> Beta-Read by Unlvcrjchick over on Tumblr!

**Chapter 3 – Riggity Riggity Wrecked**

  
He kept running as fast as his body would let him, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. A normal man would have been exhausted by now, but Rick Sanchez was a man who was used to running from things; he had been doing so for more than half his life. He knew that he was running on adrenaline and sheer determination by now but didn't care; his sole purpose was to get back to the house.  
  
The situation overhead was degrading minute by minute; the nine Galactic Federation ships he had seen earlier had turned into twenty and soon more than forty; he lost count after that point. He heard bolts of plasma fire sailing overhead, but they weren't shooting at him, at least, not yet. The surrounding area had practically turned into a war zone and he heard the destruction of buildings and houses on the other blocks nearby. A lot of them were already on fire. It looked like they were busy leveling the city.  
  
_“Why are they doing that?”_ Rick pondered to himself as he continued to run. It wasn't making sense, but he didn't have any time to waste thinking about it. He promptly turned down a familiar street and knew he was getting close to the house. “What the fuck is your problem!?” He yelled up at the sky as if issuing a challenge to the ships overhead, holding both hands high above his head as he flashed his middle fingers at them. “It's me you want, you crazy-ass motherfuckers!”  
  
He immediately regretted the outburst; another Galactic Federation ship sailed overhead, having seen him right away. The pilot of the ship recognized who the crazy human was and locked straight onto him. Rick's heart skipped a beat as he heard the loud whirring of the ship's plasma guns heating up and had to duck as the first beams sailed directly over his head. They had been so close, he felt the rush of hot air that dissipated in their wake.  
  
“Holy shit, no! NO! They're gonna kill us! Holy crap, I'm so screwed!” Rick yelled as he kept running, turning up the street to the Smith's house. The ship was still very much shooting at him and he began weaving as he ran, desperately trying to get out of the way. Five more shots landed near his feet, where he had just been.

Meanwhile, Morty didn't know what was going on at all. He was howling his head off, absolutely terrified; all he wanted was for everything to stop. Rick didn't berate him for that, though; he was just a baby and didn't have an off switch to his emotions. However, as long as he still had him strapped to his chest, there would be no way of hiding; he was sure that the little boy would only keep screaming. There was no other option, because there was no way in hell he was going let him go. Perhaps that was too sentimental, but he just didn't have it in him to abandon his own blood.  
  
Rick knew he was leading the Federation ship straight towards the house, but that was actually his objective right now. There was a small sense of relief when he saw his flying vehicle; it was still intact and parked in the driveway. He ran straight up to it and turned his body away, using himself as a shield so none of the glass shards would hit the youngster still at his chest. He struck his elbow hard at the driver's door window, smashing straight through it. Glass scattered everywhere at his feet.  
  
Morty was still wailing his lungs out in his panic.  
  
“Shut up, kiddo... I-I can't deal with your shit right now...” Rick muttered aloud as he reached in through the broken window to unlock the car. After retrieving a large ray gun from under the driver's seat, he began shooting back at the ship, using the car body as cover.

He ducked as another barrage of plasma fire came at him, cringing a little as one of the shots ripped straight through the engine of his car. The internal battery under the hood started to shake as it became unstable and then it began to rip itself apart. It promptly exploded, sending a cloud of blue fire and ash all over the driveway.  
  
Rick gritted his teeth and punched his fist into the side of the car in pure frustration; he'd just lost a viable means of escaping. His only backup was the portal gun now, and he wasn't going to use that until the rest of his family was with him. He reached back to check if it was still in his rear pants pocket, relieved that it still was.  
  
“Fuck! Eat shit and die, motherfucker!” He stood up, aiming the ray gun straight at the cockpit of the Galactic Federation ship. He unleashed a torrent of plasma fire at it, only to have to duck as it spiraled out of control overhead, smashing into a neighbor's house across the street. The ship promptly exploded in a plume of brilliant purple flames, setting the house on fire as well as the one next door.  
  
Rick cocked his gun and scanned the sky to make sure there wasn't another ship nearby; there almost always was. However, the airspace above was quiet for the time being, which was odd considering how crazy everything was in comparison to his current location. He heard sounds of distant gunfire and was morbidly amused that people were fighting back.  
  
“They have no fucking clue what they're getting into...” He growled at their stupidity, but had no time to dwell on it; there were more urgent matters on his mind. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Beth's number again. To his surprise, she picked up almost right away.  
  
“Dad, what the hell is happening?!” Beth screamed at him from the other end of the line. “Everything's blowing up!”  
  
“The world's going to shit, sweetie,” Rick scowled in his reply. “Hurry the fuck up and get your ass over here, I can only hold these shitheads down for so long!” As his eyes scanned the sky, he knew it was about to get much worse. When the Galactic Federation was involved, things always did.  
  
“Do you have Morty with you?!” Beth's voice was a panicked frenzy. “Oh god, what about Jerry?!”  
  
“Of course I have Morty with me, can't you hear him?!” Rick snapped back at the receiver. “And if Jerry can get his ass over here in time, fine... b-but don't waste time waiting for him, got that? Guy can't hold down a job, imagine how useless he'd be with a gun.” He picked off a stray Gromflomite that was flying nearby and found it strange that it hadn't been driving a ship. As soon as it fell out of the sky, he heard more gunfire. He didn't care; there was only one pressing question still on his mind. “Do you have Summer with you?”  
  
“Yes, Dad! We're in the car and trying to drive back to the house now, but everybody's gone crazy!”  
  
“Break all the road rules if you have to, they don't even apply anymore!” Rick's reply was firm. He stepped around to the back of the car to open up the trunk. It was loaded to the brim with guns, ammo and all manner of contraptions stolen recently from other planets, and he was thankful for the fact that he was such a hoarder. “Drive like your life depends on it, because right now, it actually does. That's not even a metaphor, I-I'm pretty serious about that.” He paused momentarily. “J-just fucking get here already, I'm kinda still waiting for you over here!” He hung up the phone again, leaving Beth to concentrate on her driving.  
  
Morty had been screaming throughout the entire conversation. His throat hurt, but he still managed to make loud, frightened noises.  
  
“Morty, you need to calm down, buddy... you're gonna draw more attention to us.” He did his best to speak to the kid in a calm grounding voice, but that was difficult when he was anything but calm himself. “Everything will be fine, g-got that?” Rick set his gun aside and reached down to pat the baby boy on the head. It was a total lie and he knew it; things would probably never be OK again, and he had no idea what to do other than to escape via a portal. It was his only option and he utterly hated it.

He didn't even have a backup plan.

There was a sudden deafening rumble of engines overhead, everywhere, all around at once. The light of day began to fade as the sun was eclipsed by a giant spaceship; it was one of the Galactic Federation Capital Motherships, and easily big enough to contain a population of several Earth cities. Rick had only ever seen one other in his lifetime and knew its mere presence meant something very, very bad. There was only one reason a ship of that size would be here; they were going to reduce the planet to dust. That was the only thing it could be. Gromflomites didn't waste time either; he guessed he probably had five or ten minutes, tops.  
  
“Well... shit...” Rick's eyes widened as he observed it; it took up the entire sky as it just hung there, looming overhead. He didn't know how they had found Earth, but he knew that he must have made them really angry to travel out this far.

Rick had to mentally kick himself to refocus on what he had been doing, though he knew it was already too late to do anything but focus on the escape. He began discarding the less useful things from his lab coat pockets and replacing them with guns. It was at that moment he spied a tiny ray gun in amongst the others in the trunk; it couldn't have been more than about five inches in length. He grabbed it up, knowing just what to do with it.

“Hey buddy, you wanna help?” He held it out for the little boy to take from him. “Just aim it at somebody you don't like and pull the trigger. Simple.” He knew it was positively crazy to arm a baby with a gun, but he was out of other options. He just hoped the kid didn't accidentally shoot him.

Morty was still crying, but the fact that his grandfather was talking to him made him quieten down a bit. When he was offered the tiny ray gun, he grabbed at it, still making upset noises; he didn't understand.  
  
Rick wasted no time grabbing one of the boy's tiny hands and positioned it over the handle. He held his hand over Morty's as he guided the gun towards the fence, aiming at it. “Just like this. Pretend this is one of the bureaucrat's heads.” As he squeezed the trigger, the gun immediately fired a red beam of light and blew a giant hole in the fence. “See? Do that every time you see a bad guy. Try to aim for their eyes, i-it makes them stop right away.”  
  
Morty was still very much frightened, but held onto the gun anyway.  
  
“Good. Keep it, it's yours.” Rick resumed firing at ships overhead, picking them off like flies. When his ray gun ran out of charge, he threw it across the lawn and pulled another from the trunk of the car, soon exhausting the battery in that one, too.  
  
“Hurry the fuck up, Beth! Where are you?!” He bellowed in a rage. She was taking far too long and all he could do was wait in the open, absolutely hating being so vulnerable and exposed. As he kept shooting, he began to realize that there was no point picking off the ships any longer. Now that the Capital Mothership had arrived, they were swarming the sky like locusts.

There was nothing he could do.

Rick sank to the ground in the realization that the situation had become hopeless. His back thumped against the side of his car; it hurt but he didn't care. He decided to keep the remaining guns as backup and to pick off things that were directly shooting at him. “I really hope your mom gets here soon, kid...” He mumbled, lowering his head. “I don't know how much longer we can wait this one out...” His voice was breaking up, but he kept himself together.

He didn't have time to dwell on it. The biggest weapon on the Capital Mothership overhead had began humming into life and his entire body shivered; he'd only heard that sound once before in his lifetime. He knew what was coming next.

The entire underside of the Mothership lit up as it began charging its most powerful weapon. The drawing power was so intense, it was altering the planet's gravitational pull. Rick watched the smaller rocks and debris around him start to rise off the ground, and despite the fact he knew everything was going to be leveled to nothing shortly, the sheer power of the weapon above still managed to impress him somehow.

After another moment had passed, the hull of the Mothership was completely wide open, and the light coming from the underside was glowing bright enough to light up the sky like a sun.

However, it most certainly wasn't a sun.

“We have to bail, kid...” Rick's voice was breaking up as he spoke, and he had resolved his mind to defeat. He noticed Morty was no longer holding the tiny ray gun and he wasn't surprised, he hadn't even see where it had went. “They... they're going to vitrify everything... everyone on the planet is about to die because of me. I did something really bad to them, kiddo... well not just something, it was--”

He stood up suddenly as he heard the sound of screeching tires and plasma fire, only to witness Beth's car peeling around the corner as it smashed through rising rocks and debris, a Federation ship in hot pursuit on her tail. Rick immediately took aim at the ship and yelled out with pure unbridled rage as he dumped the entire remaining charge of his ray gun straight into the hull. The Federation ship spiraled out of control, clipping the car in the front tire as it crashed into the road ahead. The car was already traveling too fast to brake in time and the two vehicles collided and caught on fire.

“NO!”

Rick's mind was screaming at him to move, but all he could do was stand there, paralyzed with shock. He was so preoccupied with the scene that he didn't notice that the ground was glowing. It was white hot and everything began to burn. He felt searing radiation heat as he got some of his senses together and threw the ray gun over his shoulders, no longer needing it. He ran out onto the street and began trying to pull the door of the car open, but it just wouldn't budge. Beth and Summer were still trapped inside; they were still alive but unconscious.

“Wake the fuck up! Get out of there... fuck, g-get out of there! This place is going to be flattened in about a minute!” He pounded his fists on the window in panic, but they just wouldn't break. He could smell his own hair burning in the heat, but he had become desperate and crazy by now, all logical thought and reasoning were gone. All his brain could focus on was slamming the window repeatedly until it finally shattered. Broken glass flew everywhere, some of it cutting his face. He didn't care.

The ground was getting whiter and hotter, and he had completely run out of time. Rick lowered his head, pulled the portal gun out of his back pocket and pressed in the coordinates to the only place he knew he would still be safe. As he fired it behind him, he felt a part of himself breaking inside; he really didn't want to do this. Luminous bright green, watery light swirled into life, forming a portal behind him. However, the glow was paltry compared to the display overhead.

Rick made one final effort to get the car door open, but there was a deafening explosive sound above; the Capital Mothership had just unleashed its charge and the vitrification pulse fire rained down onto the planet below. He was knocked backwards off his feet by the first gravity-induced shockwave, and both the Galactic Federation ship and car were ripped apart, debris flying everywhere. Rick curled himself up in an effort to minimize being hit with flying shrapnel, also shielding the young boy still strapped to his chest. There was a second gravitational shockwave only a second later, and before he could do anything else, he was knocked backwards through his own portal. It swallowed up its owner and disintegrated as if it had never been there in the first place.

As the vitrification pulse fire beam rained down from above, the energy spread outwards across the world in a ripple of pure destruction; the surface of the planet lit up with white hellfire. In another moment, the entire surface was burning away until it was just powder and glass.

Planet Earth was no more.  
  


\---------------------------------  
  
  
Rick was aggressively tossed out the other side of the portal and large chunks of debris came flying through with him. He remained in a tight, curled-up position as his back bore the worst of the brunt; many of the shards struck him and ripped straight through his clothes, embedding into his flesh. It stung like hell, but he didn't care. He hit the ground hard and only allowed himself to relax again when he felt the cold ground on his face.  
  
Morty had resumed his pitiful crying scream, completely ignorant of the fact that he had just survived the entire ordeal without a scratch.  
  
Rick simply lay there and dumbly stared ahead, the sound of the beam still ringing through his head. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and the baby crying at his chest, but neither was registering in his mind. He simply lay there in an attempt to regain his senses, though he was painfully aware of the fact that his body was starting to go into shock.

All he could think about was his portal gun, and he reached over to retrieve it from where it had fallen, wanting to know how it had fared throughout the ordeal. The case had several cracks in it and some of the connections inside probably needed resoldering, but it was otherwise repairable. At least the glass bulb was still intact, and he was relieved that it was still intact enough to be capable of functioning.  
  
It was at this point that he realized he still had the stupid cloth bag that Beth had given him at the beginning of the day. It was ripped, but somehow it had also survived; how was that even possible? He had forgotten that he had been carrying it the entire time.

Before he could focus on anything else, he heard a loud flapping sound somewhere overhead. A large, graceful creature, half man, half bird, landed in front of the new arrivals. He had been attracted over by the loud crying noise and wanted to know what the source was, and the only reason he had been so close was because Rick had set the portal coordinates to appear at the base of his tree house.

“Rick,” he spoke, his voice completely monotone. “We meet again.”

Rick put his head back down on the ground; it was taking all his effort not to pass out. “Birdperson...” He stuffed the portal gun into his back pocket once again, making a mental note to fix it later.

“You appear to be injured and in shock. Your hatchling is also making loud noises and will attract predators. I will take you to my tree house to prevent this.” He simply reached down to pick Rick up in his arms, also picking up the strange bag he had brought along with him. The smaller willowy human didn't seem to be any effort for him to carry as he spread his wings and flew into the air.  
  
In two casual flaps of his wings, he was back on the landing of his tree house. He carried Rick inside and gently set him down on the couch.  
  
“Rick,” Birdperson spoke once again, his tone very flat, “when you are ready, I wish for you to talk as it may be advantageous to know exactly what transpired before you arrived here on Bird World. Although I am used to your random drop-ins when you are escaping the demons that pursue you to the ends of the universe, this particular arrival seems... more unusual than the others.” He dropped the bag on the ground next to Rick's feet.  
  
“Unusual...?” Rick's voice was weak and he hated how he sounded right now. He forced himself to sit up, wanting to appear as fine as he possibly could; he hated showing weakness.  
  
“You should stay down and rest.” Birdperson suggested. “We will talk about it later. You have had a long and arduous misadventure.”

“Yeah, well,” Rick shrugged, grumbling, “i-it hasn't been a good day...” It was a positively asinine response and a complete understatement, but it was all he could think of to say in the moment. Everything was still so fresh in his mind, it had just happened and he still couldn't believe it. He forced himself to stand and took two paces away from the couch, suddenly feeling unwell. He wanted to throw up, but couldn't. The only thing that was keeping him awake was his own power of will. Now that he was finally safe, the adrenaline rush had worn off and now cold shock was setting in; it was all beginning to catch up with him.

“Rick?” Birdperson called his name again, his voice emotionless.

Rick said nothing. His mind was racing and he had no idea what to do with himself now. He idly scratched at his face, his thumb rubbing up against the cut on his cheek. He was only vaguely aware of it and still didn't care. All of a sudden he was suddenly dizzy and he began to shake involuntarily. A thousand pins and needles ran through his body, hot and cold all at once.

“Rick?” Birdperson said yet again, however, he stayed where he was. “Perhaps you should sit back down.”

Rick's vision had begun fading and he was beginning to lose his balance; he knew what was coming next. He simply raised his chin, tilting his head back, opting to fall backwards instead of forwards so his falling dead weight wouldn't crush the little boy who was still nestled in the harness on his chest. Somehow through it all, he was still safe; Morty and himself were the only people left alive from his home planet.

The universe really did have a sick, twisted sense of humor.

Rick went down with a hard solid thud; he heard the sound of his own body hitting the wooden floor, yet felt nothing. As he continued fading, he heard glass and circuitry crunching dully in the fabric lining of his back pocket and in that moment he knew that he'd just utterly and completely destroyed what was left of his portal gun.  
  
“F.... f-fuck...” He hissed bitterly, finally succumbing to unconsciousness.

Birdperson picked him up and returned him to the couch. Morty was puzzling to him, though; he recognized the child from the photographs he kept on his wall, but he had no idea why he was here as Rick usually traveled alone.  
  
He fumbled with the baby harness and freed the young boy from it. As he picked him up off Rick's chest, the bird-person immediately decided that he didn't know what to do with such a tiny human. It had begun making loud noises again and he found the sound unpleasant on the ears. However, he knew somebody who knew children better than he did and he stepped out the door to deal with the issue, figuring that Rick would wake up again in his own time.

He always did.  
  


\------------------------  
  
  
When Rick finally stirred awake again, he had absolutely no idea how much time had passed, but he was stiff and sore all over. He opened his eyes and immediately made note of three observations; there was no longer a baby harness around him, it was awfully quiet and dark outside, and he was back on the couch in Birdperson's living room, lying on his side. Shards of glass and shrapnel were still embedded in his back, but he really couldn't have given a shit about any of that right now.  
  
Where the hell was Morty?  
  
He forced himself to sit up, only to immediately regret it as he felt the dizzying rush of postural hypotension straight to his head. He recoiled in discomfort, deciding to stay down until it passed again.

“Take it slowly.” Birdperson instructed him. He had been waiting patiently for his friend to wake up again and had prepared a cup of broth waiting to go. “Drink this. It will help.” He moved his hand down, offering it to the other.  
  
Rick narrowed his eyes but snatched the cup up anyway. He sat up just enough to take a small sip, immediately gagging at the taste. “Ugh... w-what the fuck is this?” He raised his head and looked around the room. “Where the hell is my grandson? What time is it?”  
  
“That drink contains a herbal essence that we grow here on Bird World. It will help you feel better.” Birdperson answered simply. “As for your hatchling, he is safely roosting in my neighbor's tree house. Her name is 'Gresharak'.” The name pronunciation sounded like more of a bird-call than an actual word. “She has three offspring of her own and is a very knowledgeable mother. She will know exactly what to do. As for the time, it is well past midnight. But as you well know, time is often irrelevant.”  
  
Rick made another attempt at sitting up; this time he was successful. He took a second sip of the warm, horrible tasting broth and forced it down; if Birdperson said it would work, then he was willing to trust that. He set the cup aside on the coffee table afterwards and hunched over, staring at the floor.

He honestly had no idea what to do. He had a ridiculous amount of information to process and needed time to get his thoughts in order. His mind was still in shock, which wasn't helping. His portal gun was broken, his planet was gone, and now he was solely responsible for a tiny boy who had only survived at all because he had been too sentimental to leave him to die.  
  
None of it sat well with him; the old feeling of being responsible for another life scared the hell out of him, just like it had the first time. He didn't know how to be a parent either; he had palmed the responsibility onto his ex-wife and ran from it. The only reason he had showed up for his grandkids at all was because he had been trying to make up for the years of being absent from his daughter's life. He felt a sharp pang of guilt and pushed it out of his mind as soon as it had come; it didn't even matter now.  
  
“Rick,” Birdperson said, his voice calm, “I would like to know what happened this time. You never bring your hatchling with you. You are typically somebody who travels alone. I think something must have gone wrong.”  
  
“You think...?” Rick's voice was cool and dripping with sarcasm.  
  
Birdperson ignored him. “Yes. It is unusual. Would you like to know what is also unusual? Arriving on my planet with debris embedded in your flesh and passing out onto my living room floor.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Rick shrugged quickly, “I don't care... f-forget it.” He paused for a moment, quickly adding, “Morty's not a hatchling, Birdperson. We don't hatch from eggs, we're mammals.” He resumed staring at the floor, his mind still racing. He wished he could shut it up.

Birdperson noticed Rick was distracted; obviously still in shock or thinking about his next move. Perhaps both. The bird man sat down next to the other, picked up the cup, and handed it back to him, wanting him to drink all of it.  
  
“So,” Birdperson stated calmly, “I wish for you to tell me what happened as you are obviously not OK.”  
  
Rick tipped his head back and downed the rest of the contents of the cup, placing it back onto the coffee table afterwards. “I-i fu-UURRRPPcking fell onto my portal gun.”

“That's it?”  
  
Of all the things that had happened today, that had to be the worst insult of them all. Rick felt powerless and vulnerable without his portal gun and he hated it. He buried his head in his hands, clutching at his hair in great clumps.

“I-I fucking destroyed my own fucking portal gun, Birdperson... how the hell could I do that?!” He was yelling at himself now. He pulled at the tufts of hair he had in his hands, hurting himself in the process. “O-of course I'm not OK!” He looked back up at Birdperson, his eyes wild and furious. “There are shards of glass embedded in my asscrack, for fuck's sake! My portal gun is now just debris... do you have any idea how intricate that design was? Do you?! Well now it's as good as garbage!”

“Rick, it may be best for you to keep calm.” Birdperson stood up. “I will get you a medic.”

“I don't need a medic...” Rick growled back at him, sounding very much like a defiant child.  
  
“Yes, you do.” Birdperson's reply was ever so slightly authoritative.

Rick was taken aback; he had never seen Birdperson sound like that before. “Fine...” He conceded, quickly scowling as he lay back down on his belly. “J-just make it quick. I have so much shit to work through right now...”  
  
As he watched Birdperson walk off, he suddenly remembered the bag on the floor and reached out to grab it so he could open it and observe the damage. Despite the fact that the outside of it was ripped up, nothing inside was too badly out of shape. A container of baby powder had exploded, which was no big deal, and two or three jars of baby-food were now mush and glass shards at the bottom, though he couldn't tell how many had broken. However, both bottles of whiskey had survived quite happily; he had the foresight to store them amongst the disposable diapers and thus they had essentially been cushioned throughout the entire ordeal.  
  
He wasted no time grabbing one of the whiskey bottles so he could pull the cork off. He took a long swig from the bottle and relished the way it burned all the way down. He hadn't bothered to sit up this time, so some of the liquid spilled down his chin and onto the cushions near his head. Although he wanted to down the entire bottle, he recorked it and set it down on the ground, realizing that he might need to ration it; he'd likely be stranded here on Bird World for a while.  
  
At least the cushion smelled pretty good.  
  
Birdperson was back again. A slightly taller male bird-person whose plumage was much lighter than his own had followed him back inside. The other bird-person stood over the smaller human as he assessed what to do, then began to work.  
  
Rick had to bite his tongue to keep himself from crying out throughout most of the procedure. Bird World didn't have anesthetic, so he had to lie there and put up with raw, almost blinding pain through everything the other did to him. The removal of debris from his flesh was bad, and he would have protested when the shredded clothing was ripped off his back, but he was in far too much pain to do anything about it. The antiseptic used to clean his wounds burned like wildfire and made him feel utterly sick to his stomach. He buried his face in the cushion and didn't want to be alive anymore by the time the suturing started to happen. Still, he was mostly silent the entire way through; there was no way in hell he was going to show weakness.  
  
After it was all done, the medic covered up the wounds with gauze matting, sticking everything down with tape made from tree sap residue. Without saying a word, he slipped out of Birdperson's house again.

“Rick?” Birdperson said to him. “Perhaps you should retire to the spare nest room. You are going to need to rest up for a few days before you resume your next plan of attack.”  
  
“I don't want to rest... have too much to do.” Rick's tone was defiant. Even though he was at the lowest point in his life thus far, he was still stubborn enough to want to argue. “I don't even know where to start... I have nothing. Really, I don't even have clothes, Birdperson. That crazy-ass medic made a point of ripping them up. All that I had with me was either in my pockets, or in that stupid bag on the ground.”  
  
“Rick,” Birdperson said simply, “you do not have nothing. Do you remember when you were here for an extended period of time, running guns for the resistance movement? You amassed a great deal of things during your time here on Bird World. After your departure, I left them be. They are still in the spare nest room.”  
  
“What..?” Rick raised his head, his eyes widening, not being able to hide his confusion. “Why didn't you throw that shit out? God... h-how long has it been sitting there?”  
  
“Years,” Birdperson replied, “I did not throw anything away because it was not mine to throw away.”  
  
Rick stumbled to his feet, still dizzy as he pulled the remaining shreds of clothing off himself. “I-I gotta see it...” He didn't care how horrid he felt or the fact that he was completely naked. All he wanted to know was what was accessible to him. He stumbled down the hallway, heading straight for the spare nest room.

Birdperson followed, knowing full well that the human was still weak and needed supervision.  
  
Rick flicked the light on as he stepped into the room. The first thing he noticed was that several weapon blueprints were tacked to one of the walls and he immediately felt embarrassed over how amateur they were compared to what he could design now; he would have to rip them all down as soon as he got the chance. The temporary roll-away cot he had brought with him many years ago was still out and exactly how he'd left it. But more importantly, there was a pile of clothes on top of the cot. He wasted no time grabbing up some pants and a shirt, hastily getting dressed again. He was glad for the fact that he hadn't changed shape much over the years; he had always been on the skinny side. While the shirt smelled musty, at least it was better than being naked.  
  
The next observation he made was the stack of boxes piled up in the corner, all taped up and collected from times when he had been a much younger and foolish man. A thick layer of dust was coated over all of them, and each one had handwritten labels on the front that either said 'fuck off', 'don't touch my stuff', or 'keep out'. One of them had a giant penis drawn on the front; that was definitely his doing.  
  
“Why didn't you throw this stuff away, BP?” Rick asked again. He was more than grateful for the fact that some of his stuff still existed, as remnants of his old life were familiar and comforting. He was eager to go through the boxes and work out what he could use, but just couldn't shake the fact that he was confused; he simply couldn't work out Birdperson's motivations. If it were him, he would have thrown it all away and never looked back.  
  
“Again, Rick, they were not my things to throw away. Why are you repeating yourself? Is it because you are fatigued?” Birdperson raised an eyebrow. “I suggest you lie down. I fear this repetition may soon become annoying or perceived as nagging. Please listen to me.”  
  
“I-I'm fine.” Rick's reply came out faster than he wanted it to, but he was agitated. “I just want my kid back, and I want to get to work... I need a new portal gun.”  
  
“Your... 'kid' will be resting comfortably with Gresharak until you are well enough to proceed with your work.”  
  
“No-no no!” Rick snapped back at him. “Give him back to me, Birdperson! I don't care what time it is, h-he's been scared out of his mind. What he needs right now is familiarity, otherwise you're gonna screw him up worse than he probably already is!”  
  
Birdperson was silent; he did not want to do that.  
  
Rick sighed at him. “F-fine... I'll cut you a deal. Give my grandson back to me and I'll do whatever you want.” He twisted the edge of his mouth into an uncomfortable expression, wondering how far the other would take it.  
  
“Agreed.” Birdperson nodded once. “To answer your question further about why I have not thrown these things away. When somebody saves your entire species you tend to look upon them favorably.”  
  
“O-oh for fuck's sake...” Rick scowled. “Stop giving me so much credit for that.”  
  
“I kept your possessions exactly as you left them in case you needed to come back to them one day, and it would seem that day has arrived.” Birdperson motioned a hand towards the cot. “Lie down. I shall return with your hatchling and then we shall talk, because that is what you have just agreed to do.” He disappeared out the door.  
  
Rick narrowed his eyes as he watched the other go. He didn't like what he was hearing, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk. He grabbed up a pillow and a blanket out from under the cot and threw them on top of it. He stepped across the room to turn off the light, then slumped face down onto the cot, feeling it sink a little underneath his weight, surprised at how comfortable it felt even after all this time. He wanted to lie on his back but couldn't; it was going to hurt for a couple of days at the very least.  
  
“Fuck...” He grumbled as he pulled the covers over himself. He was exhausted both mentally and physically, but his mind just wouldn't shut up. He wished he had the sense to bring a whiskey bottle into the room so he could numb it with alcohol, but he was too tired to be bothered getting back up now.

When he heard the pitiful weak cries come in with Birdperson through the front door, he moved onto his side and propped himself up on his elbows; just from the sound he knew that his grandson was utterly exhausted.

Birdperson stepped back into the room and handed the whimpering child back over to Rick. “As promised.” He pulled up a chair and sat down, furling his wings around himself like a cape.  
  
Rick wasted no time moving his arms around the little boy, enveloping him in a hug. “H-hey, buddy. Stop making that noise, huh?” When Morty clung onto him and buried his face in his shirt, Rick felt terrible for him; the poor kid had gone through more hell today than he could ever comprehend, and there was nothing he could do to make it better. It was his fault that he had been through it in the first place and it was his fault he was even still alive at all.  
  
“Rick,” Birdperson said simply, “I know you do not want to get into this because you have been resisting me every step of the way, but it is important. It may be important for the continued future of Bird World, and perhaps for the fate of more worlds to come. What was it that brought you here?”  
  
Rick let out a heavy sigh and put his forehead down onto the pillow; it seemed that his friend was going to launch into it straight away. He had been afraid of that. “Galactic Federation bullshit...” He admitted after a moment.  
  
“Of course. I am not surprised that they would come after you,” Birdperson replied, his voice calm and steady, “but there is more to this than what you are saying. Please continue.”  
  
“Fuck...” Rick hissed. “Fine. I don't really know how to explain it. I was just minding my own damn business, like I always do... I thought they were gone, done with. What I did to them? That... t-that was a long time ago.”  
  
“Intelligent lifeforms hold grudges, Rick. Those can last forever.” Birdperson explained, his voice still calm. “It seems almost fitting that they would do the same to you as you did to them. This behavior is commonly called an act of revenge.”  
  
“I fucking know what revenge is, Birdperson!” Rick gritted his teeth, feeling his anger rising. He did not want to talk about this anymore, but a deal was a deal. “I don't know how the hell they found me. My flying vehicle wasn't bugged either, I check that shit all the time.” He was quiet as he thought about it; how did they find him? Maybe he would never know. “They came in hard and fast, classic swarming strategy... I should have seen it coming, b-but... but by the time I was armed and ready to shoot back at them, there was nothing I could do. I-It all went to shit...” His voice broke up a little when he spoke, and he became silent again, mentally cuffing himself.

“Is there any chance of returning?” Birdperson asked. “Perhaps you can regather some resistance. Your planet is obscure and far out of the way, but there are many in the galaxy who would be willing to fight on your behalf.”  
  
“Don't you get it, Birdperson?! There's nothing TO go back to!” Rick raised his voice in anger. When Morty flinched in his arms, he thought better of it and sank back down on the cot. “Th-they... they fucking burned everything... vitrified. It's all gone...” He buried his face in his hands, his chest heaving; it was taking every ounce of his will to not break down.

Birdperson was silent now; it was obvious that Rick was clearly unable to handle any more. He could see that the other needed time to grieve and to process his way through the reality of the situation he was now stuck in. He could not offer any words of sympathy or solace for he had never experienced anything like it before, so he simply rose to his feet and headed out the door. Rick was always trying to save face, Birdperson would give him that. He closed the door behind himself out of respect.

Once he heard the door close, Rick's power of will crumbled and he broke down into a fit of harsh sobbing. Even in his grief, he was still angry at himself for even making such horrible sounds; everything he had ever known of his home world was gone. He didn't care so much about that though, as Earth was shit compared to some of the places he had been already. No, he was grieving over the fact that his family, the one he had invested his time in, was gone, and there was nothing he could ever do to bring them back. He was utterly breaking apart inside. He knew that there were versions of them in other realities, but that didn't matter; variances, even small ones, meant that they wouldn't be his.  
  
He would never be able to replace them.

Part of him wanted to put a bullet between his eyes right there and then, but the only reason he wasn't going to do that was because he was needed. And, as annoying as it all was, he knew that was his fault, too.

 


	4. New Rickality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reworked and tidied a lot of the wording in this chapter. Story settles down a bit after the previous two. Enjoy!

**Chapter 4 – New Rickality**  
  
**Date Unknown, 7:15am Local Time, 2001**  
 **Birdperson's Tree House**  
 **Bird World, Dimension Unknown  
**

\----------------------------------

  
The sun was coming up outside the window. Morty was already wide awake, having been roused from slumber by discomfort and hunger. He made a soft whimper to get Rick's attention and grabbed onto his shirt with both tiny hands, pulling on it. Nothing happened. He sat back for a moment and began to think of other strategies he could use in order to get his grandfather to wake up.  
  
Meanwhile, Rick was still completely out of it and made soft snoring sounds as he slept. It was the first real rest he had gotten since everything had happened, and the only reason he had managed to fall asleep at all was because he had been utterly exhausted. That, and he had cried himself to sleep last night, though he would never admit that to anyone. When his assailant began to tug on his shirt, it didn't register. Then he felt the first whack to the face and his mind began to stir.  
  
There was another whack to his face soon after that, but it was little and could easily be ignored. There was soon another and another, those ones harder this time, and he ignored those too. It was all relatively easy to put up with because it didn't hurt; it was only mildly annoying.

He heard cranky whining somewhere next to his left ear. He ignored that and tried to go back to sleep. It didn't work, though, because Morty had already woken him up enough to be aware of his surroundings. With that same awareness came his active mind and he was once again barraged with the full volley of thoughts that had swarmed his consciousness the night before. He would let them come this time, though, as he needed to work his way through all the noise and devise some kind of plan. There was no way in hell he could just stay here on Bird World with Morty indefinitely; the baby deserved some kind of long term care plan and a decent future. Rick needed to give it to him; he owed it to him after everything that had happened.

Meanwhile, the tiny whacking hands resumed their assault.  
  
“St-stop...” Rick furrowed his brows in protest, turning his head away. Even though he was awake enough to be aware of everything around him, he still didn't want to get up because he was quite comfortable. He rolled away from his grandson and lay on his belly, burying his face in his pillow.

“Go back to sleep, buddy... it's too early for your shit.” His response was muffled and he knew that Morty wasn't going to talk back or even understand most of what he had just said, but it still felt right talking to him and explaining the situation.

Morty was getting fed up. His strategy wasn't working: the big lump next to him wasn't doing what he wanted and his discomforts still hadn't been taken care of. He placed both hands on his grandfather's back, using it to steady his balance as he shakily hauled himself up onto his feet. He resumed his attack, striking the older man with open-palmed hands. He was cranky, he was wet, and he wanted to be fed; all of these factors added up to louder and more upset demands.  
  
Rick just lay there despite the fact he knew it was only going to escalate further. Morty kept hitting him and he didn't mind about that too much, at least until the youngster had struck the heel of his hand straight onto one of his many stitched-up shrapnel injuries.  
  
“Ghhh!” He gritted his teeth and flinched hard at that one, hot tears of pain pricking at the edges of his eyes. His entire back was still very raw and tender and he decided that enough was enough. Rick positioned his arms in such a way that he could prop himself up and rested for a moment on his elbows, needing a moment to let the pain subside.

“Kid... just stop. I'm damaged goods, you know.” He shot the youngster a particularly disapproving glare. “I know you don't understand, b-but... be nice to Grandpa for a few days, huh? It hurts.”  
  
Morty obviously knew he had just done something wrong and leaned heavily onto his grandfather's shoulder, making short upset sounds that almost sounded like he was talking to him.  
  
Rick raised his eyebrows in response; was he actually apologizing right now?  
  
He sighed as he sat up properly, scooping the youngster up to place in his lap. “It's OK, little buddy, I-I know you didn't mean it.” Rick's tone was mildly annoyed, but still gentle and soft as he spoke. He wasn't going to fault Morty for hurting him this time, as the little boy didn't know he was injured and likely didn't even know his own strength. However, it had still stung like a bitch.

“Come on, we need to get up anyway. I don't know what kind of food Birdperson has lying around, but both of us need to eat something...” He went quiet as he considered the fact that he couldn't climb down the tree house in his current state, and it meant they would be reliant on Birdperson's charity until he could make other arrangements. Although he knew his friend would more than tolerate the both of them, it still didn't wasn't something he wanted to do.  
  
As he watched Morty use his shirt to pull himself up again, he realized that the little boy was staring at him expectantly. He lowered his head and sighed; regardless of how he felt about scrounging from another, his grandson was depending on him to take care of his every need.

It was going to take some getting used to.  
  
“Yeah, I know. You're probably hungry. You also smell like piss.” He scooped Morty up in his arms and finally got out of bed. After another moment, he set the youngster down onto the floor and stood up to stretch out his limbs.  
  
“Stay here for a mo--” Rick didn't finish his sentence; his own body decided to cut it short with a loud yawn. “S-stay here for a moment. I'll go into the main room and get your bag. Hopefully some of your food still survived, huh?” He twisted his mouth into an uncomfortable expression; he didn't know how much food was still accessible to them and it was really bothering him. He needed to go through that bag as soon as possible, as there were a couple of other questions he needed to answer right now.  
  
Morty protested to being put down on the floor. He had wanted to be up high and as close as possible to the only familiar person he knew anymore. He wasn't willing to explore the room, nor was he interested in anything else. All he wanted right now was comfort and the closeness of his grandfather.  
  
Rick dismissed the noise, figuring that Morty was just being himself: a grumbly little boy who had only just woken up. “Settle down, kiddo. I'll be back in a minute,” he told him as he stepped out the doorway. However, the moment he turned into the hallway and was out of sight, Morty's whining exploded into a terrified wail.  
  
Rick stopped in his tracks right there and then, immediately peering his head back around the doorway to look at the other, wide-eyed and a little baffled. “Oh god... what's wrong with you now?” He briskly moved back in to walk the distance across the room to the young boy, picking him up right away in the effort to make him stop crying again. There had been absolutely no warning with that one - not a crescendo of whimpering or any kind of lead up whatsoever.  
  
Morty practically glued himself to Rick's chest and buried his face into his shirt. He threw his arms around the older man as far as he could reach, his tiny hands clinging onto him for dear life as he continued his loud, terrified crying.  
  
This was new behavior; Rick had never seen it before. He pondered it for a moment, only to have his heart sink into his stomach when he realized what was probably going on. “Oh god... you're... this really screwed you up, didn't it? You're not going to let me out of your sight, a-are you?”  
  
As he continued to hug the young boy, his sounds began to decrease in volume once more. Rick felt a sharp stab of guilt in his chest; his grandson wasn't even two years old yet, and he had been traumatized to the point of developing an abandonment issue overnight. Yet another thing he didn't know how to deal with and worse, it was all his fault.  
  
“C-come on... let's get you sorted out.” Rick tried to put it out of his mind again as he carried Morty out to the living room.  
  
Once he was seated on the couch, he set Morty down beside him so he could get stuck into the cloth bag right away. However, he found himself distracted when he discovered that the remains of his portal gun and all of his electrical components were all laid out neatly on top of the table for him; Birdperson must have retrieved it all from his shredded clothing and left it there for him during the night.

Morty scooted over to lean heavily into his grandfather's side; he didn't want to be anywhere else right now.  
  
Rick sighed as he reached over to pat Morty on the head. “I'm sorry you got tied up in my shit, little buddy... we'll fix it somehow...” He took all the disposable diapers out of the bag to scatter them across the spare space on the table. He tossed the damaged ones aside, counting the ones that were still good to work with.

Twenty six.  
  
Not exactly what he wanted, though he was vaguely impressed it had been so well stocked for a bag that was only meant to be used for going out for a single day. He would have preferred that more of the items had survived, but he wasn't about to argue; it was what it was and he would have to work with it. As he began arranging the diapers into piles, his mind began to reason through how much time it would buy him; Morty typically went through an average of six to eight diapers a day, which meant he had just over three days to come up with a new portal gun before he could get more of them. Depending on what was in the boxes in the spare nest room, he could probably whip up something if he dedicated most of his time to it.  
  
Upon taking inventory of the rest of the bag, Rick discovered that he only had two sets of clothing for Morty, a packet of baby wipes, three plastic bottles, some teething rings, and several sachets of powdered formula that were still intact. Some of the sachets had exploded in the bottom, but none of the food in glass jars had survived at all; the bottom of the bag was a complete discolored mess. After dumping the rest of the useful items out onto the coffee table, he threw the bag behind him and buried his face in his hands.  
  
“Shit...” He hissed to himself; it meant that he would have to forage for food after all, or rely on Birdperson, which he really didn't want to do.

As Rick raised his head again, he began scanning the house, his mind racing for alternative solutions. His eyes quickly fell on the cupboards in Birdperson's kitchen and he had to raise an eyebrow at the thought that came next; birdpeople were mostly insectivores and grain eaters, but they were known to occasionally eat fruit if they could get it. Birdperson's kitchen would probably have something edible, even if it was only very basic.  
  
Morty was trying to get his grandfather's attention again; his needs still hadn't been met and he resumed the chorus of pathetic whining noises he had been making before.  
  
Rick looked down at him and sighed. “Yeah, I know. Sorry to make you wait, but... Grandpa's trying to work through some shit right now.” He placed the supplies he needed on the edge of the coffee table and rolled his sleeves up out of the way. After sliding off the couch, he took the little boy up in his arms so he could lay him out on the floor before him and get to work.  
  
Morty made a small noise of protest initially, but it seemed like Rick was going to hang close by. Simply watching his grandfather's face brought him a sense of calm.  
  
Rick pulled Morty's pants off and set them aside, then found himself staring down at the odd bundle of cloth wrapped around the kid's legs. It only took him a moment to realize what it was; birdpeople always had their own way of doing things, and this was no exception. Birdperson's neighbor must have done it when Morty had been in her care yesterday. As Rick began trying to work out how it went together, just knowing about it at all was pretty helpful; it would buy him more time if he ran out of the supplies on the coffee table.

Rick fumbled with the cloth as he tried to work out how to get it off. It was intricately spiraled around Morty's legs and underside, ending at his lower torso in a weird shape; the whole thing almost looked like a thick heavy bandage. After finding the end, he began to unravel it, being careful not to go too quickly so he could work out how it went together. If he had to learn how to do it in the future, he would, but that wasn't important right now.  
  
After pulling the weird piece of soggy fabric off entirely, he set it aside; he would probably just toss it out later, as it was wet and wasn't something he wanted to hand back. He reached a hand back towards the coffee table to grab up a fresh diaper and the pack of baby wipes.  
  
Without warning, Morty began peeing everywhere.  
  
Rick saw it coming and immediately scooted backwards out of the line of fire, grabbing up the piece of cloth he had just set aside to cover the little boy up with and to contain it. “Rule one, rule one!” He scowled as he held it there for a moment while he waited for the other to finish, then began using the same piece of cloth to clean up the mess, thankful for the fact that Birdperson's tree house had wooden floors instead of carpet.  
  
“Ugh, gross...” Rick couldn't hide his disgust. “How about some kind of warning before you do that next time?” He knew there was absolutely no point in complaining; the kid wasn't old enough to have developed the ability to control his bodily functions just yet. It was a mild inconvenience at best but still annoying.  
  
He wasted no time taping the new diaper on, and then placed a new set of clothes on the youngster, his mood still very clearly sour as he finished the chore. “You're lucky you didn't piss on me. Don't do that again!” He propped Morty back up on his feet and stood up, heading straight for the kitchen sink.  
  
Morty watched his grandfather walking away and didn't like it one bit. He started yelling as he promptly ran after him.

Rick was already standing at the sink when he felt the soft bump at his left leg. A sense of hopelessness came over him; the little boy really was serious about not letting him out of his sight. He had no idea what to do about it.  
  
“C-come on... I'm not going anywhere, you don't have to keep making that noise.” Rick grumbled as he finished washing off his hands, wiping them off on his lab coat afterwards. He reached down to pick Morty up again, setting him over his shoulder. “We have to eat something... I feel like my stomach is going to digest itself if we wait it out much longer.”

With Morty secure and quiet again, Rick began rummaging through the cupboards. He found jars of preserved red and purple worms floating in a rubbery-like substance and immediately moved on, disgusted by their appearance. He found a jar of dried leaves and pushed it to the back, not even remotely interested. Next, he found a hard sugary brick of something milky brown, almost like coffee. He pulled it out and gave it an experimental lick; it tasted like maple syrup candy and had similar flavor notes to a charred oak whiskey-barrel. It was the first useful thing he'd found, and at the very least, he could ask Birdperson what it was so he could make booze out of it.  
  
He set it on the counter and kept looking.  
  
Rick hadn't been quiet at all; the noise he made while moving containers and banging cupboard doors attracted the attention of Birdperson, who had been asleep in the master nest room of the tree house. In another moment, the feathery male had made his way out into the kitchen and stood in the doorway.  
  
“Rick,” Birdperson's voice was the same old monotone tenor he normally spoke in, however this time it was etched with tiredness, “I heard you moving around and wanted to know if everything was all right. I admit that I am glad to see you on your feet and busy. However, what you are doing concerns me,” he paused, adding, “what are you doing to my kitchen?”  
  
“I'm looking for food, Birdperson, isn't it obvious?” Rick's reply was a little sharp. He didn't even stop to look back even for a moment; hunger was driving him to continue searching. “We're starving, a-and I can't climb down the tree and forage.” He pulled a white glass container off the top shelf and set it down on the counter to open up and sniff, immediately recoiling at the moldy stench inside. “Yeugh...” He put the lid back on and returned it to the cupboard.  
  
“I have preserved nightcrawlers if you want those,” Birdperson told him simply, “I probably have some dried beetles as well.”  
  
“No, Birdperson. No worms, a-and definitely no insects.” Rick grumbled. “We're not insectivores. Don't you have any grain I can make into oatmeal or something? Seeds? Nuts? Fruit? Anything?” He poked Morty in the shoulder. “Got any input to this, little buddy?”  
  
Morty didn't reply; he was too busy staring at the strange feathered man nearby, almost mesmerized by the patterns in his plumage.  
  
Birdperson was quiet as he pondered the question. His attention soon drifted to Morty, and he regarded the young boy's gaze before turning back towards Rick. “I know somebody who makes what you might call 'bread'.”  
  
“That's a start.” Rick replied as he pulled out a white ceramic container, popping the lid off. He gave it an experimental sniff and put it on the counter next to the brick of sugar. “Anything else?”  
  
“I would not eat that if I were you,” Birdperson began to explain, his voice calm. “That particular container is filled with dried berries of the siopp tree. We use them for crushing into a fine powder to treat feather-rot. We also turn them into a medicine for hatchlings to rid them of intestinal parasites. If you were to eat those berries in their unprepared state, they would probably make you very sick. Such a large dose may also render you impotent.”  
  
Rick's eyes were wide as he stared back at the other. Without saying another word, he very carefully placed the cap back on and returned the container to the cupboard, hastily brushing his hand on his lab coat afterwards.  
  
Morty's mood was beginning to deteriorate again. He held onto to the fabric of Rick's lab coat in one hand, using the other to whack him, loudly grumbling at him.

“Fruit will probably sustain you for a few hours, but it is hard to come by in this season, and is often considered to be a treat here on Bird World. If you were to eat grain, it would keep your stomach full all day.” Birdperson continued. “If that is what you want, then I will fly out and speak to the flock to see what they can do for you. This may take some time, however. All I can offer you until my return is my preserved nightcrawler stash and some beetles.”

“Y-yeah yeah... no.” Rick sighed as he deemed his search unsuccessful and closed the cupboards back up. “Look, I would take care of myself under normal circumstances, but,” he shrugged. “Whatever. Who cares about me, the kid needs feeding now. Look at him, he's trying to beat me up about it.” He couldn't help but smirk at Morty's antics as he shifted him off his shoulder, holding him at arm's length. “You're so mean, little buddy. Stop.”  
  
Morty's mood hadn't improved at all and he flailed both arms out, trying to grab at whatever he could reach.  
  
Birdperson made a soft whistle in sudden realization. “I know something that will be suitable for both yourself and your hatchling. However, the preparation will take some time.” He unfurled his wings, relaxing them at his sides. “Is this acceptable?”  
  
“Y-yeah, however long it takes.” Rick nodded once, he had little other choice but to agree right now. “Oh, before I forget... I need sterilized hot water. I'm going to need, uh,” he went silent as he did the quick calculation in his head, “about four to six pints a day.” It was probably an overestimation, but he wasn't about to chance any kind of risk.

Birdperson stood there, his expression remaining stoic. He was confused, but he knew better than to question it because he knew Rick would have had his reasons for asking. He simply moved to the far side of the kitchen and opened up the door of his water boiler and loaded the under compartment with lumps of coal and wood. After setting it to start burning, he closed it up again.

“This device is more commonly used for bathing. The main pipe is connected directly to my bathroom. However, this water would be safe to drink if you were to run the boiler for three to five minutes after it has reached its maximum temperature.” Birdperson paused for a moment, quickly adding, “there is a small spigot on the side of the tank. You will find it rather easily.”

“Thanks, BP.” Rick sighed, feeling a little weight off his shoulders. Finally, some progress; while only a start and definitely small, at least it was something.

Rick watched Birdperson disappear out the front door and retreated to the couch while he waited for the water to heat up. He sat Morty down next to him and leaned over him, curious. He had a little bit of time to kill and decided that he might as well keep the young boy entertained. He hoped that if he spent lots of time with him, the kid might actually start feeling a little more secure and confident again. Rick wanted to see the curious little boy he had known before all this mess had started, one who was adventurous and keen to explore his environment. All he could see right now was a cowering, miserable mess and a crushed spirit; it didn't feel good to witness.  
  
Though, it might take him a long time to get over; Rick simply didn't know. It had been a horrible experience for anyone to go through, let alone a small child. Staying nearby Morty and spending time with him was still worth a shot, though. He enjoyed spending time anyway, despite the fact he would never admit how ridiculously attached he was. Helping Morty to get over his insecurities would be totally worth the effort, however long it would take.  
  
“Hey. Hey, little buddy,” Rick lightly tapped the baby boy on the shoulder to get his attention. “Can you say 'Morty'?”

“Mmm...” Morty replied, his eyes attentively glued on Rick's face. “Mmmm.”  
  
“Eh, good start.” Rick shrugged at him, grinning. “Hey, what about my name? Can you say 'Rick'?”  
  
Morty frowned in concentration for a moment, then made a soft growling sound. “Rrrr.”

“No, no, no. 'Rick'.” He tapped his chest with an index finger as he pointed to himself, grinning further at the fact that the kid was so willing to get into it. “Rick. Rrr-ick. It's one syllable, i-it's not that hard. Come on, you can do it, kiddo. Talk to me.”  
  
“Rr-rrr-ri...” Morty stuttered slightly as he made the sound. He was quiet afterwards and shuffled over to grab at Rick's sleeve, pulling on it. He was still hungry. “Rrrih.”

“Close enough.” Rick sat up again, seeming pleased that Morty was so willing to talk back to him. “Heh, Beth doesn't know what she's talking about. Talk to you? What the hell? I talk to you all the time, and it's a pity you can't talk back to tell her tha...” Rick trailed off and went quiet again, suddenly hit by a sharp wave of guilt and regret.

He had gone straight into a rambling tirade without thinking about it, and now he regretted it because it really hurt; he would never see his daughter again to tell her anything. That heavy feeling in his chest had returned with a vengeance and he turned his head away as his breath came out in sharp heaves. He immediately began to fight himself, angry over the fact that it had hit him so suddenly and randomly. He didn't want to lose it so soon again and especially not in an open area like the living room. Needless to say, he wasn't hungry anymore.

Rick was so distracted trying to keep his emotions in check that he didn't hear the water boiler violently bubbling away in the kitchen.

Morty pulled on his grandfather's sleeve again, and loudly whimpering at him. He was getting so hungry that it was actually starting to hurt.  
  
“H-hey...” It was enough to knock him out of his thoughts again. Rick sat up, turning his attention back towards the other; the sound his grandson kept making when he was hungry was very predictable in terms of pitch, and he could easily recognize it. “Y-yeah I know. We still have to fix your problem.” He reached across the coffee table to pick up a sachet of formula and a bottle. “This will have to do until Birdperson gets back.” He hesitated for a moment, then motioned towards the boiler with one hand. “I'm just going to be over there. Don't freak out.” He made his way back out to the kitchen.  
  
Morty wasted no time wiggling off the edge of the couch, thumping onto the floor below. Once he got to his feet, he ran across the room to follow his grandfather, grabbing onto his leg once again once he was in close enough proximity.  
  
Rick sighed as he heard the loud wooden thud, and without even looking down, he already knew Morty was coming towards him. “At least you're not screaming about it this time...” He muttered as he prepared the powdered formula as per the instructions on the packaging, shaking the bottle up to distribute the powder through the hot water. When he felt the other grab him around the leg, he simply stood there and tolerated it, noting that Morty seemed to favor his left one for some reason.  
  
He awkwardly hobbled across to the sink, Morty still clinging to his leg, and ran the bottle under cold water to cool it down. “You know, kiddo, this can't be a long term thing. We can't spend too much time fucking around.” Once he was satisfied with how cool it was, he shook it up just to make sure, and then handed it down for Morty to take.  
  
Morty greedily snatched the bottle with both hands and popped it straight into his mouth.  
  
“Good. Hopefully that shuts you up for a while...” Rick muttered as he took the opportunity to get out of the way, stepping back into the living room. “Grandpa has too much shit to do. Y-you better not consume too much of my time today, we're basically running on a time limit here. We got three days before you run out of diapers. If we go over that, we gotta start getting more creative. And by that, I mean pulling it out of our asses... so, good advice, kiddo: leave Grandpa alone to work.”

Now that the young boy was sorted out, at least for the time being, Rick was eager to focus on finally being able to work. He picked up the ray guns, components, and broken portal gun pieces up off the coffee table and shoved everything back into his lab coat pockets. He retrieved one of the whiskey bottles from the floor and then headed back into the spare nest room, Morty following close behind.

Once back in the room, Rick picked Morty up and set him back down onto the roll-away cot along with his bottle of formula. “Again, this is hard for you to understand, but try not to get in my face too much, little buddy. This is gonna sound cruel, but don't cry, I-I need you to be quiet. I've spent too much time on you already and I need to concentrate. Your damn crying will probably give Grandpa a headache.” It was coming out very grumpy and a little harsh, but he was far too frustrated and anxious to hold back. He uncorked the whiskey bottle and took two large swigs, setting it down onto the work table afterwards. He hoped it would kick in quickly and make him feel better, because he badly needed something to calm himself down.  
  
To his credit, Morty wasn't upset at all. He seemed to settle right away once being placed on the bed. Now that he was occupied, he lay back and simply watched his grandfather get to work.  
  
Rick stepped away with a loud burp, his attention lingering on Morty for a moment. He actually felt bad about what he had just said, but had no time to dwell on it; he had a portal gun to make. The first thing he did was pull down the stacked boxes in the corner; he was sure he'd settle down again once he took a proper inventory of what was available to him.  
  
He tore the lid off the first box and began placing things out across the work table. He found a screwdriver and an ionic soldering iron - essential basic items. He found several small crystal components along with some batteries which were fairly useful and wasted no time to place them onto the table as well. Over the next hour, he cleared out three more boxes and either placed the important items onto the table, or back into the boxes because they were either garbage or too old to bother with.

When he opened the fourth box, he was met with the welcome sight of his old electric guitar and amplifier. As much as he wanted to fire up his kit and belt out some riffs, he had more important things to do, so he abandoned them in the corner of the room.  
  
What Rick found in the next boxes only got better. He found blank blueprint papers and drawing implements, etching equipment for circuit-board production, and several old prototype gun designs from his days in the resistance movement against the Galactic Federation. He found pots of sealed chemicals and casting equipment, firing mechanisms, gun batteries, as well as metalworking tools and box after box of screws. He also discovered that he had more electrical components than he knew what to do with. Rick had always hoarded useful things and although his ex-wife had perceived it to be a bad habit, he couldn't help but feel like it was his saving grace now.  
  
The scientist finally stood back after everything was out on the work table, placing his hands on his hips as he admired the amount of clutter on his desk. He felt very satisfied; he was sure he could work out something with a lot of this stuff. It wasn't entirely optimal as some of the objects were quite old, but it would have to do.  
  
Rick pulled up a chair and sat down at the desk, pulling out a blank sheet of blueprint paper to begin sketching. His first task was designing the circuit boards for the portal gun and now that he had to design the whole thing from scratch, he had much better ideas about how to go about it. His previous portal gun models had worked but were acceptable at best; they were completely subpar compared to what he was capable of accomplishing now. He wanted to build something much greater this time around, something that could track and record dimension coordinates, because he had always just previously punched them in from memory. In a strangely ironic way, he was actually kind of glad he had broken the old portal gun now; it was an obsolete design he had never bothered to upgrade because it had done what he needed it to.

Rick put his head down and buried his attention in the work ahead. Soon enough, he was entirely focused on what he was doing and the rest of the world was zoned out. He didn't feel the initial bump at his leg, nor the tap on his shoulder.  
  
Birdperson was standing behind him. He had carried in a bowl of hot food in one hand and a small loaf of bread in the other. “Rick.” He said simply.  
  
Rick wasn't paying attention.

Morty was at his grandfather's feet again, having been attracted over by the smell. While the warm bottle of milk had filled the hole for a while, the wonderfully delicious smell that came in with the unfamiliar feathery person made him absolutely ravenous.  
  
“Rick.” Birdperson spoke again. His voice was quiet, for he did not want to startle him. “My neighbor has prepared you some food. It would do you well to stop what you are doing and take time out to care for yourself.”  
  
Rick jumped a little as he looked up. “Oh, hey, Birdperson. Didn't see you there.” The smell of whatever Birdperson was carrying hit his senses and he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He set his drawing tools aside and turned around in the chair. “Oh yeah, that smells gooooood... what is it?”  
  
Birdperson placed the wooden bowl onto the work table, being careful not to displace any of Rick's carefully laid out objects. “It is a soup consisting of root vegetables and grain. I do not know what humans eat, but when I gave Gresharak your food requirement list, she decided to cook this for you. She likes your hatchling and wants you to be well fed.” He placed the small loaf of freshly baked crusty seeded bread down beside it.

Rick wasted no time picking up the wooden spoon out of the bowl to give the soup an experimental taste. He raised both eyebrows, seeming quite taken aback; it was actually pretty decent. “Holy shit, bring this woman over some time. I owe her for the shit she's been doing for me. Geez, she takes care of my kid and does this... why the hell haven't you snapped her up, BP?”  
  
Birdperson's head feathers twitched slightly, yet his expression remained exactly the same. “She still has a soul bond with her spirit mate, Rick. He is currently out on migration, scouting Bird World for threats. If I were to move in on her while she was still bound to somebody, this would be considered a dick move.”  
  
“Bummer.” Rick grunted. “Heh, women. Who needs 'em, right? Wubba lubba dub dub.”  
  
“Rick,” Birdperson replied calmly, “please focus on what you are doing. You will have time to sort through your situation in good time.” He turned away to walk out the door.  
  
Rick leaned back in his chair, realizing that Birdperson had understood exactly what he had just said. He would have said something more about it, but his attention was diverted by the young boy who was now practically trying to climb him. “Uh, hey. How much of that food do you have left?”  
  
“Enough to keep you going for a few days,” Birdperson replied, “do you need more?”  
  
“Y-yeah.” Rick answered as he bent down to pick Morty up, placing him in his lap. Despite the fact he was starving, he began feeding the portion of the soup he had been given to Morty right away. “The kid is probably going to eat you out of house and home. Seriously, if there's anything I can do to pay this back, let me know. I can, uh... build you some shit.”  
  
Morty made hasty grabs at the spoon as he was fed, practically wolfing down everything he was offered without chewing. At one point he started coughing, but continued accepting whatever he was offered.  
  
“Rick,” Birdperson stood in the doorway, staring back at him now, “your quick thinking and innovative scientific designs almost single-handedly saved Bird World from total destruction at the hand of the Gromflomites. We are forever in your debt. Thus, you owe us nothing.”  
  
Rick simply flattened his brows, scowling. “Not this again...” When Morty coughed, he held the spoon back and waited for him to finish before offering more. “Hey, slow down, buddy; don't choke on that.”  
  
Birdperson disappeared out the door, leaving Rick to continue feeding his grandson. He didn't even need to do very much to modify the food for the young boy; the soup was pretty mushy already, but he still fed the other relatively slowly, not wanting to overfeed him because he still wasn't quite sure where Morty's limits were just yet.  
  
When Morty didn't seem interested anymore, Rick took it as the cue to stop. He simply picked up the bowl and finished the rest off himself, no longer seeming to care that the spoon had baby slobber all over it. When Birdperson brought in the second bowl of soup, he finished that one off, too, as well as the bread; he had been absolutely starving.  
  
Rick set both bowls aside and went back to work, feeling stupidly content with how full he felt right now. He took a quick sip from his whiskey bottle and worked on the circuit board sketch designs for a little while longer before taking Morty out for another diaper change. When he came back into the room, he set the youngster back down on his knee, letting him snuggle into his chest. He soon found himself in a balancing act: patting Morty's back with his left hand while he sketched up blueprints with his right.

Over the next couple of hours Morty fell asleep on him, so he shifted the little boy onto his lap properly. Now that he had both hands accessible, he resumed work without hindrance.

He was simultaneously in the mind of a scientist hard at work and a caring parent, the two sides in a state of precarious equilibrium. In that singular moment, he was fooled into thinking that the new reality he had found himself in might just work out after all.  
  
He had no idea what was in store.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long time of deciding what to do with this literary work over here on AO3, I finally went through a second proofread and will try to upload a polished chapter here every week until it has caught up with the FFN version (its at Chapter 23 as of the last update if you wanna jump that far ahead).
> 
> The version that appears on AO3 will be much higher quality and updates may be slower, but I'm a stickler for murdering mistakes.


	5. An Unfortunate Rickuation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE + Warning: Suicide is a subject in this chapter. Please be aware if you find such material distressing. This chapter also contains illness, though it probably doesn't require a warning tag.
> 
> Now Beta-Read by Unlvcrjchick! THANK YOU SO MUCH!

\---------------------------------  
  
_“It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.”_

_\- Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club_

\----------------------------------

** Chapter 5 – An Unfortunate Rickuation  **

  
**November 19th, 6:28am Local Time, 2001**  
 **Birdperson's Tree House**  
 **Bird World, Dimension Unknown**  
  
  
\----------------------------------  


Rick got up fairly early the next morning. A quick glance out the nearest window told him that the sun wasn't up yet, but time had never really mattered much to him. All he could think about was picking up where he had left off; his circuit-board designs were already near completion and it was driving him crazy. He left Morty to sleep on the roll-away cot and covered him up with the blanket, standing back for a moment to take in the picture of the peaceful, sleeping baby boy before him.  
  
“Yeah, you win this time.” He shook his head and smirked a little as he moved out the doorway. “Stay down, buddy... I'll be back soon. I promise.”  
  
Morty was still asleep; that was all that mattered. It meant that Rick could take time out for himself and he fully intended to take advantage of that. He spent ten minutes in the bathroom to sort out his most outstanding issues first, then stripped down to wash himself with a bucket of warm soapy water and a piece of cloth; he still wouldn't be able to have a proper shower until all the stitches came out of his back. Although it wasn't what he wanted, the alternative was worse.  
  
Once he was dried off and dressed again, he brought Morty's baby supplies into the spare room and stuffed them into one of the empty boxes that had been left over from unpacking. Once satisfied with that, he kicked it under the work table so that it was out of the way but still accessible; he would need to use it later. After that, he retreated out of the room again to reheat a portion of vegetable soup on Birdperson's stove, finding it a little odd that birdpeople had perfectly civilized cooking and bathroom facilities, and even electricity, but not refrigeration.

“Oh well.” Rick shrugged as he took the food back into the room. Once seated at the table, his attention was on the work before him and he began to ponder what to do next with the designing process.

Two sides of himself had been fighting with each other the whole time he had been drawing up the blueprints; he was torn between doing it quickly and doing it well. Rick had always been a perfectionist when it came to his own work and making a new portal gun for himself was no different. He knew he needed it soon but didn't want to do a bad job of it; rushing the art of design would just be poor craftsmanship.  
  
He picked up the wooden bowl and shoveled rushed spoonfuls of soup into his mouth as he sat back to look over his design again, swallowing without chewing. While the circuit boards were finally designed to a point where he was finally satisfied with them, they still needed tweaking. He quickly finished off the soup and washed it down with a couple of swigs from his whiskey bottle, then leaned back over the desk to get back into it.  
  
Over the next two hours, Rick was lost in what he was doing. However, as time ticked onward, he started to get a little concerned; Morty still hadn't woken up. He moved off the chair and stood over the cot, giving the little boy a gentle shake with two fingers.  
  
Morty made a soft noise in protest and curled up, wanting to stay down.  
  
Rick had to chuckle about that. “Oh, so it seems the tables have finally been turned around, little buddy. Y-you didn't think I could get my revenge, did you?” He lingered for a moment to pat Morty on the back, and as much as he wanted to bother the youngster into waking up, he knew that it would just be cruel. He sat back down in his chair to resume working, letting it go for a while longer. By the time he had finished sketching up the circuit-board designs entirely, Morty still wasn't awake.  
  
Now it was just troubling him and he couldn't shake it.  
  
“OK, kiddo. Time to wake up,” the scientist's voice was authoritative this time, “I can't let this go on any further.” He tossed his drawing implements aside and moved over the cot to pick Morty up; he would likely be hungry and would definitely need another diaper change. “H-hey, come on. Wake up, little buddy.”  
  
Morty's response was a weak whimper as he tried to curl up in Rick's arms. He was being really difficult to rouse, that was for sure.  
  
Rick had to raise an eyebrow at the behavior; this one was new to him as well. He stood there to quietly watch the little boy, waiting for further body language cues that would give away any hints as to why he was behaving like this. Then he noted how red the young boy's cheeks were and his eyes widened at the observation. He promptly slipped a hand under Morty's shirt to feel his bare back, discovering that he was very warm to the touch.  
  
“Oh fuck...” He felt his heart sinking in the realization of the situation. “Just fucking great. You better not be getting sick, you little turd!” Rick gritted his teeth and growled. “I don't want to deal with this right now... I-I want to finish making my goddamn portal gun!”  
  
He carried Morty back to the table and set him in his lap as he sat back down on the chair. He began to rifle through the drawers of his desk as he looked for a temperature sensor that had previously been used for testing gun parts; its main purpose was to give readouts on heat output and to make sure nothing would explode during safe operation of the guns he made. However, he wouldn't be needing it for that anymore.  
  
When he found the device in the second drawer of the desk, he wasted no time pulling it apart; it was about the size of an ordinary pen so it didn't take very long. In another couple of minutes he had his ionic soldering iron in hand and parts scattered across the top of his blueprints. He began to hastily modify the device, repurposing it entirely.

“Fucking hell... no, Morty. No! I... I can't deal with this shit... this is the last thing we need right now!” Rick was growling and although he knew that it sounded like he was very angry with the little boy, he didn't mean it at all. He wasn't going to fault him for being sick; he was just extremely frustrated with the situation. It was going to throw out his timing entirely.  
  
When the temperature sensor's rewiring had been finished, he popped the probed-end back into the casing and clicked it all back together. He placed the probe of the device into his mouth to test that it worked, cringing a little at the taste; it was very metallic, and obviously not designed to test the temperature of living organisms. He checked the readout after the device had beeped, pleased to see that his temperature was normal, which meant that the modification was working as intended. He wasted no time wiping his slobber off the end and trying to get it into Morty's mouth.  
  
Morty immediately protested and turned his head away. Despite the fact he was lethargic and wanted to keep on sleeping, he still tried to fight his grandfather every step of the way. He whimpered at the unpleasant taste and flailed both arms up to smack the device away, not at all liking what was happening to him.  
  
“S-stop! It'll be over again before you know it, so shut up and let me do this to you.” Rick growled at him, still very much frustrated. “Otherwise it's going straight up your ass. D-do you want to be violated like that, Morty? Do you? No, no you don't!”  
  
After another few minutes of fighting with each other, Rick kept persisting until Morty finally conceded. The scientist simply held the temperature probe in the boy's mouth and anxiously waited for it to finish measuring. When it beeped, he held it up to get the readout – 101.4°F.  
  
“Fucking... damn it. Damn it!” Rick was practically yelling as he threw the probe across the table again. He moved to his feet, carrying Morty with him as he stormed out of the room, his blood practically boiling over as his anger went from zero to eleven in two seconds. He concluded that there was only one way that his grandson could have gotten sick so soon and he fully intended to chase it up immediately.  
  
“BIRDPERSON!” Rick bellowed out the name the moment he was in the living room. “Get your fucking ass out here, w-we need to talk!” His tone was authoritative and demanding. The loud noise made Morty flinch in his arms, but he didn't care; Birdperson needed to know he was angry.

Birdperson appeared in the doorway of his bedroom and then very calmly walked out into the living room to meet with the other. He was silent as he looked back at Rick, noticing he was positively livid. He was used to seeing Rick in this state and had never paid it much mind; the smaller human often had a temper like a pack of explosives. His attention drifted towards Morty and then back to Rick; he was staring back at him, wild-eyed and dangerous. The feathered male simply raised a singular eyebrow in silent query.

“Hey Birdperson, fuck YOU!” Rick yelled at him rather suddenly, fully intending to rip into him right off the bat. “Yy-y-you took my kid to your neighbor's house and now he has a fever because of it! Kids are disease vectors and mine has never been exposed to this environment before. Did that ever cross your fucking birdbrain mind? No?! Of COURSE your neighbor's kids would have made mine sick, BECAUSE THEY'RE BASICALLY DISEASE-RIDDEN CRAP FACTORIES WITH LEGS!”

“Rick--” Birdperson began.  
  
Rick immediately cut him off; he wasn't having any of it. He stood tall on his feet, his chest puffed out as he continued letting the other have the full force of his bellowing rage. “Dii-d-did it ever occur to you to keep me informed about this stuff? Is there any seasonal thing going around? At what point did you go, ‘hey, maybe I should tell my old buddy Rick about any kind of sickness bullshit currently going around my civilization’? No?! YOU DIDN'T THINK TO TELL ME ABOUT THAT?!” Spit was flying out of his mouth as he yelled, and Morty was crying all over again. Rick ignored him and continued his irrational assault. “What kind of fucking friend ARE you, Birdperson!? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!”  
  
“Rick--” Birdperson said again, his feathers a little ruffled.  
  
Rick cut him off a second time, not wanting him to get a word in and resumed his screaming tirade. “At what point do you fuck up so hard, Birdperson?? I can't believe you would be so fucking careless, you stupid-ass birdbrain... this is basic intel you should be giving me right away! Do you have ANY idea HOW far this stupid BULLSHIT IS GOING TO PUT ME BACK!? FUCK YOU IN THE ASS, BIRDPERSON! THIS ONE IS ON YOU!” He panted slightly, otherwise quiet again, drool dripping down the side of his mouth like a rabid animal. In that moment, he may as well have been; he had completely lost it.  
  
Birdperson simply stood there and let Rick abuse him with everything he had, knowing full well that just by standing there and being a verbal punching bag, it would help him let it all out and feel better again. When he finally had a moment of silence, he simply shook his head and began to talk.

“Rick. While the people of Bird World are capable of developing a fever, it is rare. None of our native planetary illnesses present with such sudden onset fever like this.” He motioned across to Morty with a hand as he explained his thoughts, his voice still calm. “This is not familiar to me at all. The most common illnesses of hatchlings on Bird World include feather-molt, upper respiratory issues, intestinal parasites, and hives. I do not recognize this. Whatever this sickness is, it is native to your species.”  
  
Rick's eyes widened at Birdperson's commentary, knowing he was right; they must have brought it with them. He visibly sank in his posture again, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty about the outburst and harsh accusations he had just made of his friend. He was far too proud to apologize though, and simply stood there in the silence that followed. He quickly distracted himself with patting Morty's back, trying to soothe his cries.

“Rick,” Birdperson began again, taking note of the other man's posture and expression, noting that his mind was working again; this was exactly what he wanted. “It would do you well to sit down and think your way through the problem. You have only been here for a day, perhaps two at most. Whatever Morty has, it is too short of a time period for it to have come from Bird World.”  
  
Rick's brows furrowed deep in thought. “Hmmm...”  
  
“If this is going to get worse,” Birdperson motioned a hand towards Morty again, “I will assist you in any way I can but can promise nothing. I will leave the boiler on as you will probably need sterilized hot water to brew medicine. If you do not know how to do this, I will show you.”  
  
Rick released a heavy sigh from the bottom of his lungs and lowered his head. That sharp feeling of guilt in his chest wasn't going away; he had wrongly accused his friend, he had screamed at him and completely lost the plot and yet, somehow through it all he was still trying to be helpful despite everything. “Birdperson, I--”  
  
“Rick,” It was Birdperson's opportunity to cut him off now. “Just leave. Go back to the spare nest room and work through your problem. I would rather not see you for a few hours.” He wasn't actually angry, he was only saying it to get his friend's mind back on track. Sometimes the only way Birdperson could get Rick to calm down was to dismiss him entirely.  
  
It seemed to work because Rick stood there for a moment, giving Birdperson a very unhappy look. He wanted to apologize right there and then, but he found himself hesitant to do so. He shook his head and simply slipped out of the living room again, retreating back to the spare nest room, carrying a quiet but very miserable Morty along with him. As he sat back down at the desk, he set Morty in his lap and began to think hard. Birdperson had been right; they had really only been here about a day or two, but his mind had been far too preoccupied in keeping Morty fed and clean as well as sorting his way through the absolute minefield of grief and loss when he allowed himself the time to feel it. There was also still the pressing issue of the portal gun design; their entire future was depending on it.  
  
Whatever Morty had, it had to have come from Earth, before they had departed through the portal. Rick grabbed up a piece of blank blueprint paper and cleared away everything else on the desk in front of him. He set the paper down and began to draw, because he found that sometimes visually mapping out his thought processes would help him find reason and a solution.

Rick sketched up a timeline of the events that occurred thus far and then a couple of diagrams, tapping his pen on the table as he stared down at the data in front of him, trying to rack his brains for a logical explanation. At first he thought it might have been the common cold; incubation time for that was three to five days. Having a fever with a cold was uncommon, though, so he quickly dismissed it. Influenza was his next probable thought; it seemed to fit the profile a little better. His mind began to race with the other alternatives as he thought about all of the common childhood ailments that existed.  
  
The only thing that fit the timeline exactly was the fact they had been in the park about 48 hours ago. At first he thought that the other kids in the park might have been the most likely infection pathway; he knew children were walking, talking disease vectors and nothing would convince him otherwise. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks: Morty had eaten a piece of candy he had found in the sandpit. Rick sat there as he reasoned through that thought, quickly concluding that it was the only viable explanation he had.  
  
“God fucking damn it, Morty!” He growled aloud, feeling his anger rising all over again. “This is why you don't eat random shit you find lying around. Y-you're probably not even going to learn anything out of this, are you? Stupid little piece of shit... it serves your dumb ass right.”  
  
Morty had begun coughing while Rick complained at him, making miserable pained whining noises in between breaths. Rick idly patted his back as he crumpled up the piece of paper he had just been drawing on, only to be met with the sounds of the kid throwing up on him a moment later.  
  
“Ah fuck, geez!” Rick quickly plucked Morty up, but it didn't stop. The baby boy continued vomiting down the front of his clothing and onto the floor below. After it was over, he began loudly crying once again; it had hurt, and he felt very unwell.  
  
Rick simply held Morty at arm's length, a mixture of horrified and disgusted. He was used to his grandchildren throwing up; Morty had spit-up all the time when he was much smaller. However, he had always palmed the baby off onto his mother when it happened, and Morty had since grown out of the habit. No, this was a proper violent bout of genuine vomiting and he didn't like it one bit. Rick gritted his teeth and looked down at the floor as well as his pants; it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it still managed to utterly disgust him.  
  
“Jesus, Morty, s-some fucking warning next time, huh? You just ruined some perfectly good clothes!” He growled out as he set the kid down on the floor next to the mess. “I'd give you some sympathy on this, but this is on you. You... y-you also just broke rule two. Stay there, I gotta clean this up. Holy shit...”  
  
Rick was a mixture of worry and anger as he stripped off his pants, not seeming to care that he wasn't wearing underwear. After using the pants to absorb and clean up the mess on the floor, he stripped Morty's shirt off and dumped everything into a pile in the corner of the room, planning to launder everything at the earliest convenience because it was already starting to stink. After he had hastily pulled another pair of pants on, he went into the bathroom to grab up the bucket he had used for washing himself off earlier in the day, figuring it would be needed. He set it at the floor next to his chair and positioned the very miserable young boy over his knee to keep him at the ready for more of the same.  
  
Over the next couple of hours, the situation only deteriorated further. Morty kept throwing up and then to add to the insult of being sick, it started coming out the other end. All Rick could do was hold the young child in position and wait it out. He kept his mind distracted with working on other parts of the portal gun's blueprints just to stop himself from going out of his mind with worry; if it kept going for too long, the little boy would start dehydrating.  
  
Over the next five hours, Morty frequently broke rules one and two. Rick didn't seem to care anymore by this point and simply switched between holding the kid in place and changing over diapers as soon as they were bad enough; considering how sick Morty was, it didn't take long. His pants and shirt had been thrown up on, and he didn't even want to know what was on his sleeves anymore. At least he had more clothes, and it was still warm outside so he could do laundry if it really came to that. Morty had already gone through the two pairs of clothing he had left over and Rick was left with no other alternative other than to strip it off and leave the sick youngster in nothing more than a diaper, bundling him up in a spare lab coat to keep him warm and give him some kind of dignity.  
  
When the bouts of vomiting had finally started slowing down, Rick filled a bottle up with sterile warm water and offered it to Morty in the attempt to get something back into him, though the kid simply wouldn't take it. After another hour had passed he had an eyedropper out and was using that instead as a means of getting fluids into him. He knew it would all pass and take its course, but it still managed to worry the hell out of him.  
  
It was well past midnight on Bird World before Morty had finally stopped throwing up and pooping; he was finally asleep and utterly exhausted. Rick folded up a clean lab coat and tossed it onto the floor beside the cot, setting the bundle of lab coat and Morty down on it, entirely unwilling to share his bed with the youngster again until his stomach had calmed down.  
  
He left Morty to sleep it off as he stepped back out of the room, clean clothes in one hand, the handle of the bucket in the other. He headed straight into the bathroom to dispose of the bucket's contents down the toilet. He was also in dire need of a good clean up.  
  
After he was done and dressed again, he felt a little better about himself. Rick made his way out to the living room of Birdperson's tree house and sank heavily into the cushions of the couch, releasing a heavy sigh from his lungs; the last twelve hours with Morty had worn him down in every sense of the word. It had been positively horrible to sit through and watch, but he hoped Morty had gotten over the worst of it and would start climbing out the other side soon. Either way, he had needed to step out and take a break.  
  
His brows were set in a deep, thoughtful scowl as he rested his head back on the cushions behind him, staring at nothing in particular above. He hadn't seen the illness coming but already had an educated guess about what it was; it hit hard and fast, taking Morty down in only a couple of hours.

He really wasn't liking the path some of his next thoughts began to take.  
  
Birdperson had been out for most of the day and returned home to roost for the night. When he discovered that Rick was in his living room upon entering through the doorway, he stood there silently, not at all surprised to see him still awake; he had known the human to pace around his house at all hours of the night and it wasn't unusual behavior. When he noted that Rick wasn't in a bad mood, he casually stepped past him and moved through to the kitchen and began brewing herbal tea, figuring that his friend could probably do with it.  
  
“Rick,” he said after he had stepped back into the living room, carrying two cups in each hand. Even though it was his house, he stood nearby as if waiting for permission to be there, gauging the other man's reaction to his presence. “How goes your evening? When I was home earlier, I listened to some of the events in the spare nest room but I did not intrude because I figured that you had everything under control.”  
  
“Sorry about losing my shit at you earlier, BP.” Rick said right away, not bothering to look down. He closed his eyes after another short moment. “Y-yeah, everything's probably under control by now... f-for now, anyway.” He twisted his mouth into a deep frown when the last sentence came out.  
  
“What do you mean?” Birdperson set one cup down on the coffee table in front of Rick and sat down beside him. “Is there more to this that I should know?”  
  
Rick sat up, only to slump forwards again in posture. “Ugh...” He reached out with one hand to pick up the cup of tea and took a moment to sip from it. “Birdperson, I need you to take my grandson to your neighbor's house. N-not right away, but... eh.” He buried his forehead in his other hand. “Just do it.”  
  
Birdperson was taken aback by the statement, yet showed nothing outwardly. Considering how adamant Rick had been about having his grandson close by at all times until this point, he found the new commentary mildly alarming and he began to wonder if something more serious was going on. “You are not coping with the responsibility of raising a young child?”  
  
“N-no, that's not it,” Rick shook his head, “Morty's fine, I've been able to handle everything he's thrown at me, surprisingly. But...” He sat up, not really wanting to finish his sentence or even bother explaining his thought processes to the other. “J-just take him away from me tomorrow.”  
  
“Rick,” Birdperson sat up straight this time, looking down at him, “I cannot adequately deal with your request if you do not give me more details. You need to tell me what is going on. Forgive my forwardness with this next assumption, but if you are planning to take your own life, then you need to speak up immediately. Losing one's family and planet can be a very difficult situation to live through, so it is understood. However, there are many alternatives available and you can be assisted through your situation. You are too valuable to lose.”  
  
“Wh-w-what?!” That one had completely taken him unaware. Rick wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that subject right now, but he certainly wasn't going to get into it at any point with anyone else, let alone his best friend. “That's totally not it, Birdperson!” He growled out the reply, immediately going on the defensive. “Holy shit, where the fuck did that even come from!? That's not it at all! N-nowhere close to it!”  
  
Birdperson sat through the outburst, saying nothing. He had said what he needed to, and now that Rick was angry, he wanted to be quiet and let him calm down again.  
  
“Shit, no-no-no...” Rick shook his head quickly, motioning away with his free hand as if to dismiss the issue entirely. “Don't ever ask me that again!” He took another sip of the tea and began to settle again, his expression still a mixture of deep unhappiness and resignation. “Look, you can't take what I'm saying at face value? You're really... just going to make me explain this, aren't you? Y-you're... going to keep pushing me.”  
  
“Yes.” Birdperson nodded once in reply. Rick's body language was entirely giving him away, and the bird man knew something was still troubling him. If suicide wasn't the reason, then he couldn't work out what else it could be.  
  
“Look, Birdperson, fine... I-I need to go rogue for a few days.” Rick sighed heavily, already finding it very difficult for him to explain and admit to. “I also probably need to take out about three gallons of water with me.” He set the cup on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch again, his gaze returning to the ceiling. “If Morty has what I think it is, I need to disappear. The stupid illness is a virus that inflames your stomach and intestines. No matter what it does, it's highly contagious. W-which means I have a near 100% chance of getting infected with it as well; it's probably already incubating as we speak. The kid threw up on me all day and worse, those things are the virus's main infection vectors.” Rick scowled suddenly, almost sounding like an argumentative child as he spoke again. “I don't wanna deal with this, I want to finish the portal gun!”

“Rick, is that it?” Birdperson spoke again, his voice staying calm. “That is all that is troubling you?”  
  
Rick sat up again and stared back hard at the other. He simply couldn't understand why he didn't seem to mind. “Y-yeah... don't make me repeat it.”  
  
Birdperson's shoulders shrugged ever so slightly. “If you are going to end up as unwell and incapacitated as your grandson has done today, then you need to stay in the tree house. You have already been through too much in the last two days. I do not want to see this kill you.”  
  
“It's not fatal, Birdperson.” Rick felt his anger rising again, but he kept it in check. “And, what? Seriously? No! Gross. You don't wanna put up with me in that state. I'll be completely useless and it will be coming out both ends... e-everywhere. Have you seen the Exorcist movie? Well, it's... it's pretty much like that.”  
  
“Whatever it takes,” Birdperson shrugged, “I will take your grandson back to Gresharak when your health deteriorates. You will need to concentrate all your efforts into getting well again, let alone be tied up in the responsibility of a young child who is entirely dependent on you.”  
  
“Fine...” Rick huffed aloud as he folded his arms across his chest, conceding in defeat. “B-but leave me the hell alone when it happens, huh? You don't need to see that.” He picked up the cup of tea again and took another long sip now that it was cool enough. He needed something to fill the hole until everything went downhill.  
  
Birdperson watched him, seeming content that Rick had agreed to staying in his tree house; it meant that he could keep a close eye on him. He simply sat in the human's company for a while, silent as he drank his own cup of tea. After a while, he spoke up again. “So how is he doing?”  
  
“Huh?” Rick blinked at the sudden question, then shrugged. “Oh, you mean Morty? Yeah, he's asleep, finally. He's doing all right now, I think... he's probably gotten over the worst of it by now; the young ones always seem to bounce back pretty quickly.” He finished off the herbal tea and set the cup back down. “He'll be better once he's able to drink something. Be sure to tell your neighbor that once she gets him.” As Rick sat there and listened to himself, he realized how much of a concerned parent he was sounding like right now, and he was very self-aware of the fact. He made a sharp snorting sound as if to cover for himself, glaring at the front door. “F-fucking little turd. Wasted half the damn day...” Without waiting for a response, he moved to his feet and headed off down the hallway, returning to the spare nest room, totally done with the conversation.  
  
Birdperson simply watched him go, not saying anything this time. He didn't need to; Rick had already said all that had needed to be said.

Rick shut the door behind him and slumped face first down onto the cot. He was too angry and frustrated after that conversation with Birdperson, and now that he knew what was coming for him, it didn't help his mood at all. He raised his head momentarily to look down at Morty, relieved to see the kid resting comfortably on his side; it was a welcome sight after everything that had happened and the hell he had been put through seemed worth it all of a sudden. Rick quickly reached out to pull the edges of the lab coat back up over Morty's body, covering him up so he would stay warm during the night.  
  
He buried his face back down in the pillow again, entirely upset with the thought that Birdperson had asked him if he was suicidal. Sure, of course he'd thought about it: who wouldn't have in his current circumstances? However, he really hadn't known that it was that obvious. He made a mental note to bury his emotions even further in Birdperson's presence next time, even though the guy had pretty much nailed it on the head, however much he didn't want to admit it.

He pulled the covers over himself and rolled onto his side, angry all over again. He didn't really want to kill himself, did he? He pondered that thought as his eyes watched Morty's chest rise and fall in the dim light of the room. Despite everything else he was feeling right now, he was relieved that his grandson was asleep, because it meant that his immune system had a much better chance of overcoming the virus. He simply watched the other until he eventually drifted off himself.

  
\---------------------  
  
  
He wasn't sure what time it was when he woke up again, but he could already feel waves of nausea circling the pit of his gut. Rick had predicted exactly what was coming because it had been too obvious to be anything else. It didn't matter what he did, because in a few hours it was going to strike him down hard, just like it had done to Morty. There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.  
  
When he heard the soft noises next to his bed, he was quick to get up. He cared nothing about how he felt right now; getting the baby hydrated again was his only priority. He slipped out of the room only to return a few minutes later with a warm bottle of formula he had mixed up at half-strength. He picked the bundle of clothing and Morty up in one arm, the bottle in his other as he sat back down on the edge of the cot and tried to make him drink.  
  
Morty wiggled and squirmed in protest almost immediately; he still wasn't having a bar of what the other was doing to him. He made short, angry, loud noises and then started growling, which was definitely a noise he had only learned recently. It had seemed to work for his grandfather, and now he was trying it out to see how successful it would be if he did it, too.  
  
Rick simply sat back and watched, letting him work out his anger. He seemed hopeful as he listened to the noises his grandson was making and took it as a good sign; he must be feeling a little better if he was energetic enough to be defiant.  
  
As he propped Morty up into a sitting position, he placed one hand around the youngster's stomach, pushing him further back in his lap until his little spine bumped against his chest. “Come on, little buddy... you gotta do this. You started it in the first place, now finish it.” He gently persisted as he held the bottle in place, making another attempt to get the plastic rubber teat into the youngster's mouth. “T-this is probably hard for you to understand, but it's important right now. The sooner you do this, the faster you'll get over it again. Come on, do this one favor for me, huh? I'll let you do anything. You can climb all over me, beat me up if you want to. I'll even let you pull on my hair again. Maybe I'll even let you touch my portal gun, huh?” He made a quick mental note to design a locking safety feature when he was ready to design the controls for the device.

Morty made another loud grumble and kicked his left foot out, thumping his grandfather straight in the leg with his heel. After another moment of whining, he finally grabbed at the bottle and began to suck on it.  
  
Rick breathed a soft sigh, feeling a small sense of relief. He dared not move, as he worried the slightest movement or disruption would stop Morty from what he was doing and was prepared to sit there as long as it took.

To his credit, Morty finished well over half the contents of the bottle. He sat up to launch it across the room and made a loud burping sound, then relaxed back into his grandfather's chest.

“Heh,” Rick couldn't help but feel amused. “Good effort, little buddy. I'm proud of you.” He placed a hand on Morty's forehead to check him over, noting that although he was still feeling warm to the touch, it was definitely more acceptable than it had been yesterday. “Look, I gotta be level with you... that horrible thing you have? It's going to take me down, too. Y-you don't wanna see me like that, so... I need you to hang out at the neighbor's house for the day.”  
  
Morty looked up at his grandfather as he spoke but didn't understand any of it. All he could pick up was the tone of voice and he didn't like it.

“I know it's not a good plan, but it's all we've got to fall back on right now.” Rick continued the explanation, taking the youngster's attentiveness as another good sign. “Something else you need to understand... you need to behave while you're over there, huh? None of that... clingy bullshit you've been trying on me. G-got that?” He poked Morty in the chest. “This is serious.”  
  
Rick shifted Morty off his lap and placed him down beside him on the cot. After stepping across to the work table, he retrieved a small box from the space at the back; it wasn't much, but it would have to do. He upended it straight onto his set of blueprints, only to immediately fill it back up again with baby supplies in preparation for the handover. As Rick went through the box under his desk, he discovered that he was nearly out of diapers; Morty had gone through far more than the average yesterday. He couldn't worry about that now, though; it only meant that he would have to sort out an alternative as soon as he could. Once the box was loaded up, he grabbed Morty up in his free arm and stepped out into the hallway.  
  
“I really mean it today, little buddy, no clingy bullshit. Y-you gotta be brave in life, it's only gonna get harder from here. But you gotta keep pushing through it all no matter what happens.” As he listened to his own words, part of him wished he could take his own advice. He pushed the thought down and made his way into the living room, where he saw Birdperson at the stove. Good; that was what he wanted right now.

“Hey.” Rick said simply to get the other male's attention, standing there as he waited to be acknowledged. He didn't want to do this, but he had little other choice. “I-I think we're ready to proceed.”  
  
“Rick?” Birdperson looked up from what he was doing; he had been brewing up something and the kitchen was filled with the rich smell of earthy notes. “How is your health?”  
  
“I'm fine. For now.” Rick shrugged. “Here, j-just take him already, might as well get it over with now before shit starts happening,” he scowled, quickly adding, “literally.”  
  
Birdperson took the pot off the heat and moved over to take Morty out of Rick's arms. “Gresharak has agreed to take your grandson for as long as it takes. I would talk about this in further detail but must depart, as she is expecting us.”  
  
Morty immediately began to whimper as he was handed over. He didn't know what was happening, but already wanted to protest. He began to flail his arms, making grabbing motions with his hands back in the direction of his grandfather.  
  
“Wait.” Rick said quickly, realizing that he sounded hesitant the second it had come out. He quickly held out the cardboard box to cover for it. “Take this, too. Everything is in there. There are also directions on the sachets, it's not that hard to follow. Tell her to get his fluids up. He really needs to focus on that today, you'll...” He had to catch himself, realizing that he was sounding like a concerned parent all over again - far too sentimental. “Just get fluids into him, top priority. F-fucking drown him if you have to.”  
  
Birdperson reached out to take the box and turned to leave. Rick watched him go, his attention on Morty the entire time. A small sigh escaped him as he watched the little boy trying to climb over Birdperson's shoulder and reach back for him, his arms flailing and desperate. After they were out the door, Morty had begun screaming again. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, but knew it was for the best.  
  
Rick just stood there until they were gone and turned on his heels, momentarily detouring to the bathroom to retrieve the bucket; it would be needed again. He headed back into the spare nest room and wasted no time to turn off the overhead light. He dumped the bucket down on the floor next to his chair and sat down to work; if this stupid stomach virus was going to take him down, so be it, but he was adamantly determined to be as productive as possible until it happened.  
  
Rick gathered up the scattered electrical components and pushed them into a pile on the far corner of the table, resuming where he left off on the design process. After a while, he pulled out yet another blank blueprint page and began sketching up the outside casing for the portal gun; he wanted it to be a much more sleek and compact design this time, and easier to fit into his pocket. He also decided that if the casing were more solid and flat, it would have less chance of being broken when thrown around. He'd always been rough on the previous portal guns and knew that it was very likely going to be subjected to harsh treatment again on future adventures.

Even though the scientist knew the sickness was coming, he still wasn't prepared for it. He was barely able to tolerate the sharp waves of nausea that seared through his gut like burning fire. He could taste bile in the back of his throat, and he felt like he was overheating. Although he'd been sick more times than he could count from binge drinking, that was at least fun and went away as soon as blood alcohol was absorbed by the liver. This was totally different and would only keep getting worse.

Rick picked up his bottle of whiskey, downing several mouthfuls of it before going back to what he was doing; if he was going to end up absolutely wrecked then he wanted to numb as much of it as possible. When his lower abdominal region began to cramp up, he hunched over the desk and did his best to ignore it, though it didn't last very long; his stomach very quickly made sure of that. It gave a sudden heave and he grabbed up the bucket as quickly as possible, making harsh, loud retching sounds as he threw up the contents of his stomach. He simply sat there and let it happen, powerless to do anything else until it was over. The moment he was done, he set the bucket back down onto the floor and went straight back to work, not even bothering to wipe off his mouth.  
  
“Stupid fucking dumbass Morty and his fucking sandpit candy bullshit...” He growled to himself as he adjusted his work lamp. “F-fuck you, Morty, you're the one who did this to me. Fuck you...” He couldn't really fault his grandson for it because the kid wasn't old enough to know any better, but right now he needed something to blame.  
  
Over the next several hours it only got worse, just as predicted. Between rushed trips to the bathroom and sitting at the desk, Rick knew he was only wearing himself down faster yet pushed through it anyway; he had always been good at being stubborn.  
  
It had gotten dark outside and he worked under the dim light of his work lamp until he couldn't concentrate on the blueprints any longer. After yet another round of violent retching, the scientist finally decided to call it quits and moved over to the cot, taking the bottle of whiskey and the bucket with him. He was utterly exhausted as he sat back down on the cot; his bouts of vomiting had sapped all the energy out of him.  
  
Rick set the bucket beside the bed and ripped the cork off the bottle, spitting it across the room. He knew that it certainly wasn't what he was meant to be doing right now, but he was beyond caring; all he wanted was for everything to stop.  
  
He began to chug from the bottle like it was water. It burned all the way down and his throat already hurt, so it didn't matter; if his stomach could absorb the alcohol faster than his next round of vomiting, then what he was doing to himself would be worth it. He finally lay down on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, simply lying there for however long he could until either his stomach or his lower gut decided to revolt again. He felt like he was on fire, yet he could feel his body shivering. He pulled the bed covers over his head and wished that everything in existence would just go away.  
  
He thought that he had hit rock bottom when he had come through the portal a few days ago, but the virus was like a kick to the balls while he already was down in the gutter; this was the bottom now. A sense of complete hopelessness washed over him as the alcohol kicked in and he began to cry into his pillow; he felt like garbage in every sense of the word. He didn't even try to stop himself or muffle the sound this time, he just let it out as soon as it came.  
  
His sick addled mind soon began taking him to dark places that he didn't really want it to wander, the large amount of alcohol swimming through his head not helping one bit. He began mentally telling himself over and over again that the situation was hopeless, his life was a lie, and that he was a complete and utter failure. Earth was gone because of him and him alone, everyone was dead and it was all his fault. And Morty, oh god, that poor little boy; he deserved so much more than what he could give.  
  
No matter what he did, he would never be able to make things right again.  
  
A heavy stab of guilt hung over his heart as he thought about that. Everything was his fault; the little boy had no future because of him. No matter what he did, he would never be a proper substitute for the kid's real parents and he was totally kidding himself if he even thought for a minute that he could because he was too screwed up himself. He'd already damaged Morty more than enough, the youngster's clingy dependency behavior existed entirely because of him. Maybe there would be some permanent psychological damage and he would be screwed up for the rest of his life because of it: he simply didn't know.

Rick began to wish with every fiber of his being that he hadn't cared so much. He wished that he could have just had the sense to leave Morty behind to die; at least then he would be with the rest of his family. The drunken scientist raised his head, his eyes widening in the realization that he still didn't even know what to do. Then he concluded that he had never really ever known what to do in the first place; most of the time he was just winging it and using his intelligence to get himself out of trouble. He couldn't think his way out of this one. And after a few moments, not even that mattered either.  
  
After another round of mentally beating himself, Rick forced himself onto his feet, his stomach twisting into sudden knots of pain, protesting to the sudden movement. As he drunkenly stumbled across the room back towards the table, he threw up down the front of his shirt and onto the floor; he didn't care.  
  
His eyes scanned across the desk, soon eyeing off one of the old guns he had designed well over twenty years ago. As he picked it up, he took a moment to admire his own craftsmanship, finding it fitting that he should be doing this with something he had designed himself. He was the cause of all his problems after all, of course he should be solving them with something he had created by his own hand.  
  
He clicked the firing mechanism into place and placed the end of the barrel straight between his eyes. He hesitated only for a moment before pulling the trigger.  
  
Click.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Rick raised an eyebrow and pulled the trigger twice more, only to remove it again and discover it had no charge left; the battery had probably been depleted well over a decade ago. He threw the gun hard at the floor and crumpled into the chair at the desk with heavy defeat. He leaned forward onto the table and began openly sobbing into his blueprints.  
  
After everything that had happened, he had finally decided that this was the bottom - and he was such a failure that he couldn't even kill himself properly with his own gun.  
  
  
\----------------------------  
  
  
Birdperson opened the door to the spare nest room a few hours later. He had spent all day brewing up something particularly complicated and he figured that his friend's stomach would have finally calmed down enough to allow him to administer it.  
  
The silence in the room had gone on far too long for his liking and he was growing concerned; he knew Rick's mind wasn't in a good place to begin with and he wanted to check on him. What he saw next in the light of the dim room next made all of his feathers ruffle; Rick was hunched over the chair, his head slumped down on his desk. His hands were completely relaxed at his sides and there was a large gun on the floor nearby.

Birdperson stepped across the room in three paces, immediately placing his free hand on Rick's neck, relieved to discover that his heartbeat was a strong, rhythmic pulse and that he was still very much alive. He was also very warm to the touch and drenched in sweat.

“Rick,” he said promptly, “wake up.” He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and began to shake him while he continued to hold the small cup he had brought in with the other.  
  
“H-huh..?” Rick weakly groaned in response. He didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to feel anything.  
  
“Rick,” Birdperson said again, though this time it was more firm. “You need to sit up.”  
  
“Fff...” Rick hissed out harshly in reply, his voice weak and hoarse. “F-fuck off...”  
  
Birdperson decided that he had enough of this behavior. He set the cup down and planted both hands firmly on the other male's shoulders. “Get up.”  
  
Rick responded this time, doing what he was told. As he sat up in the chair, the smell of his own clothes hit him; he reeked of alcohol and bile and had to recoil a little at the sharp stench. He wiped his eyes off on his sleeve and turned his head away; there was no way he could hide what he was feeling right now.  
  
Birdperson simply moved around the chair until he was standing in front of his friend's field of vision again. He picked up the cup and held it out. “Drink this.”  
  
“No point, o-only going to throw it back up...” Rick kept his head still, but didn't want to look up; he already knew what Birdperson would have walked in on and there was no way out of it. He felt utterly ashamed of himself.

Birdperson leaned over the other, placing a hand under Rick's chin. He tilted his head up just enough so he could place the edge of the cup to his mouth. “Drink this,” he repeated himself in the exact same tone he had just used, “it will help to break the cycle of purging.”  
  
Rick furrowed his brows as if to protest, but then thought better of it. He reached up with a hand to hold the cup and began to slowly down the contents. It tasted vaguely of aniseed and dirt, along with several other strong herbs that he couldn't identify. While the flavor wasn't unbearable, he found it unpleasant. Still, he drank the whole thing if just to humor the other. If he threw it back up again, at least it would mean that his statement would have been right.  
  
Birdperson simply stood there, supervising the other while he drank. When Rick was done, he took the cup away and stepped back towards the door. “Go back to bed,” his voice had resumed its plain and calm tone, “you will feel much better tomorrow morning. We will have another talk then.”  
  
Rick visibly flinched at those words; he didn't want to do anything of the sort. Though if it would make Birdperson go away, he would do what he said. He shakily pushed himself onto his feet and drunkenly stumbled back towards the bed, collapsing down on it in a semi-coordinated tumble.  
  
Birdperson was satisfied. He shut the door again and left Rick to sleep it off.  
  
It was probably the medicine that Birdperson had given him, or the huge load of whiskey he had consumed along with it, that finally knocked him out completely. He didn't hear the sound of the portal opening up near the cot, nor did he register the sound of another moving around near his work table, shuffling things across and under the desk, adding to them, removing other things again.

He definitely didn't notice when the other moved over him and momentarily lingered to shoot him in the neck with a needle gun.

The other simply picked up the bucket, reaching into the portal to grab another one identical to it. He dropped it beside the cot and stepped back through the portal once more. It disintegrated as its owner went back through and it broke apart as if it had never existed.

Rick continued sleeping, snoring his head off, completely unaware of what had just happened to him.


	6. Wubba Lubba Dub Dub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some artistic liberties were taken with some names in this chapter, but they're fairly minor and easily ignorable. Grammar + repeats fixed + Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick. Thank you so much!

**** **Chapter 6 – Wubba Lubba Dub Dub**

**  
November 21st, 10:05am Local Time, 2001  
** **Birdperson's Tree House  
** **Bird World, Dimension Unknown**

 **  
** \----------------------------------  
  
  
Rick simply couldn't understand himself right now; he had just woken up feeling absolutely amazing without even a trace of nausea or fever. Considering where he had been the night before, the amount of contrast between then and now was absolutely unbelievable. There was no logic or sense behind it, but he sure was happy to feel somewhere towards normal so soon. His back was itching like crazy, which he took as a good indicator; it meant that he was on the way to healing up. He decided to chance the risk rolling onto his back to test it out, quickly discovering that it still hurt. However, it was far more tolerable and would change how he slept; he had missed not being able to do it.  
  
None of it was making sense, though; why was he feeling so damn good? Was Birdperson's medicine really that effective? He did discover something that wasn't good though; he absolutely reeked of vomit and booze. At least THAT was normal for him.|  
  
Rick got to his feet and stripped down, tossing his clothing into the odoriferous pile that was accumulating in the corner. As he reached under the cot for another set of clothes, he discovered that he was only down to one lab coat, one shirt, and a few pairs of pants; laundry would have to be done soon whether he wanted it or not.  
  
He wasted no more time thinking about it as he moved out of the room; the good mood and overwhelming sense of wellness had also come with ravenous hunger. He was so preoccupied with how he felt that he didn't even think to take a look at the room around him.

Rick had a bounce in his step as he went all the way to the kitchen. After filling up a cup with ordinary water, he downed the entire thing in one go. A loud rumbling burp escaped him as he began scanning the kitchen area for food; he was so hungry that he was willing to eat anything.  
  
Birdperson drifted into the kitchen, having been alerted to the sound of Rick's burping, taking it as a signal that he was up again. He simply stood back at the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, observing. As he watched Rick, he was completely silent as he tried to work out if his friend was putting on an act or genuinely happy.  
  
Rick rediscovered the block of sugar in the cupboards he had found last time and wasted no time biting into it, chewing through the raw crunchy texture. “Hey, BP.” He said casually as he took another bite out of the sugar brick, chewing for a moment before swallowing. “What's hangin'?”  
  
“Greetings, Rick. I am quite glad that you are well enough to be up.” Birdperson told him. “However, I would like to express my disappointment. Even after being given the medicine, you still found the time to play with your portal gun. I saw the light from under the door in your room last night after I had instructed you to go back to bed.”  
  
“No way, BP.” Rick bit off another huge chunk of sugar and chewed on it, talking with his mouth full. “You must be seeing shit because the portal gun's not even started. I'm going to get out the chemical kit and start etching the circuit boards today.” He swallowed what was in his mouth, adding to his statement. “Got any more of this? It's really good.”  
  
“Why are you eating my pine sugar, Rick?” Birdperson raised an eyebrow. “I can obtain more with relative ease but I must say that I am surprised that you would rather eat a single ingredient than an actual food.”  
  
“I ate it because it was there. And hey, what the hell are you talking about? Sugar is a food. I can eat it, therefore it's food.” Rick stuffed the last portion of the sugar brick into his mouth as if to demonstrate. “See? It fits the very definition of the word.” He licked the remnants off his fingers, having decided he really liked it. “Besides, people eat sugar all the time, but they call it 'candy'. Eating sugar by itself is simply eliminating the manufacturing process. P-pretty efficient if you ask me.” He turned back towards the cupboards, wanting to resume his search.  
  
“I don't understand, Rick,” Birdperson continued to watch the other closely, “you have not even started your new portal gun?”

“Nope,” Rick shrugged as he grabbed up a jar of grain, “it's still on paper. I haven't finished the entire design just yet, but at least I can actually construct the first part of it today.” He put his ear to the jar as he shook it, then took the lid off to sniff, clapping the lid back on afterwards, disgusted by what he had found. “Why do you keep so much useless shit around? Seriously, what the fuck is this even supposed to be?” He glared hard at the jar and returned it to the cupboard, muttering, “So impractical... back on Earth, we used our kitchens for, you know, actual food...”  
  
As Birdperson continued to observe, he finally reasoned in his mind that Rick was actually being genuine. He certainly was in a good mood to say the least, which he knew wouldn't last very long once he started speaking about the most pressing subject on his mind. There was no way to delicately approach it, not that he had ever been particularly good at that anyway.

“You are legitimately hungry, Rick?” Birdperson found that information a little surprising, but said nothing further about it; he needed to say what had to be said. “You are not behaving like this for any other reason?”  
  
“What?” Rick grunted suddenly, turning his head back to glare at the bird man. He already had a good idea about what Birdperson was about to get into, but he still didn't want to discuss it. He made an attempt at turning the conversation back in the way he wanted, wanting to be the one in control of it. “It's a kitchen, w-what the fuck do you think I'm doing here?” He resumed rummaging through the cupboards. He wasn't even looking for anything anymore, he was just making himself appear busy and distracted. “Let the man feed himself. Holy shit.”

“Rick, we need to talk.” Birdperson continued to watch the other, figuring he was definitely deflecting now; he was wise to this strategy and wasn't going to tolerate it any longer. “You are expressing behaviors of great concern and you will need some coping strategies to help you through your situation.”

Rick narrowed his eyes at that statement and slammed the cupboards shut with a loud bang, his expression turning dark in an instant. “Oh, not this fucking bullshit again...” He stared at the closed cupboard space ahead of him, completely unwilling to look at the other. “Look, stop asking about it. I'm fine!”  
  
“You are not fine, Rick. And you can dismiss this as many times as you like, but you cannot deny what happened last night.” Birdperson stood there and watched him carefully; he knew he was going to strike all the wrong chords and that it was going to make his friend very angry, but it was imperative that he discussed it. “What would have happened if you had been allowed to go further? What would have happened to Morty if you had been successful?”

“Look, BP,” As Rick gritted his teeth, it was taking all his power of will not to explode into another wild fit of rage. “Full disclosure, I was in a bad place yesterday. But that's done with... done and dusted. Y-you... you don't need to worry about it again.” He narrowed his eyes even further before moving away, intending to retreat back to the spare room. “If you want me to get out of your kitchen, fine. I'll go forage somewhere else. Either way, I'm done talking about this.”

“Rick. I am sorry for this, but,” Birdperson hesitated for a moment, “your guns need to be confiscated from you until further notice. Until I have some kind of guarantee indicating otherwise, you have proven that you cannot be trusted with them.”  
  
“What!?” That one made him stop dead in his tracks. Rick swung around to face the other finally, wild eyes glaring. “Why?! Don't do that to me, Birdperson!”  
  
“I am sorry, Rick. It has to be done.” Birdperson's tone was simple and resolute.  
  
“Fuck, no!” Rick quickly shook his head. “No-no-no, no! Don't do this to me! You already know I don't like being told where to go and what to do, besides, I'm a wanted felon, same as you! How the hell am I supposed to defend myself if the goddamn bureaucrats come back to Bird World and find me stranded here?! Th-they found me on Earth somehow, and you know how fucking far away it was from everything else. Chances are th-they... they're already out there looking for me again!”

“It can be dealt with accordingly, Rick.” Birdperson told him simply. “We won last time, and we can do it again.”

“Because you had me!” Rick growled back in his sudden reply, poking at himself in the sternum with a pointed finger; it sounded incredibly self-important but he didn't care. “Don't you get it, BP? Who the hell do you think designed all those guns and supplied them? Why do you think it was such a success? You're not thinking logically about this, y-you... you're not making any sense.” He exhaled sharply as a means of keeping himself from losing it. His back was itchy beyond reason, which wasn't adding to his mood. “Point is, you can't take my guns away from me, Birdperson! That's what I do! Or used to, at least...” He placed a hand behind his back and began to scratch one of the many itches. “Look, this is completely irrational. Come on! At the very least, I can pull them apart and salvage the components inside.”  
  
“I understand where you are coming from, Rick.” Birdperson continued to stand there and watch, seeming content that although his friend was upset, he was still managing to reason his way through it for the most part. “But understand that what I am doing right now is entirely for your benefit. Even you should be able to see the logic behind that.”

Rick twisted his mouth into a seriously unhappy expression, turning his attention back towards the door of his room. He wanted to escape and go back to work, and part of him just wanted to make a break for it and start running. He didn't want to admit it, but Birdperson wasn't wrong, and he wasn't entirely certain he could trust himself either. There was no way in hell he would say that out loud, however.

Birdperson just stood there and watched Rick's body language, watching his eyebrows twitch and his mind at work. He figured it could go either way at the moment, and he was interested to see the outcome.  
  
“Fine!” Rick finally said with a wave of his hand as if to dismiss the issue entirely, outwardly seeming suddenly very calm all of a sudden. Instead of dealing with how he was feeling, he had decided to just suppress it along with everything else. “I'll take the batteries out and start pulling them apart.” He turned back to face the other, pointing at him, his tone turning very sharp and aggressive. “But I need the circuit boards, you have no idea how valuable they are to my work! And know that what you're doing is completely pointless... I can easily make a bomb and blow myself up, o-or or bludgeon my eyes out with a screwdriver!” He hesitated for a moment as he realized how bad that had just sounded, then quickly added to his statement. “Which I wouldn't do! I'm just saying... I'm not stupid, and you know that. Take something away from me and I'll just find another way around it. Don't fuck with an innovator, yo.”

“How long will it take you to dismantle your guns?” Birdperson ignored most of his rambling; he wanted to get to the point.

“Possibly an hour or two, maybe three at most,” Rick shrugged, answering with blunt honesty, “which means you're asking me to waste even more of my time! I'm still supposed to be making a portal gun, everything I do from here on out is riding on that one single design being finished. Y-you... you DO know that, right?”  
  
Birdperson simply shrugged back in reply, not saying anything this time.  
  
“Stupid-ass motherfucking bitch...” Rick muttered loudly as he headed back towards the spare nest room. “What a complete fucking waste of my time and resources...”  
  
Birdperson watched him go and resumed what he was doing; he didn't need to interfere any longer. He trusted Rick's word and knew that he would bring the gun parts out for him to take. He also knew that the conversation would likely be a sour point for a long time to come, and that perhaps it might even put a serious dent in their friendship. But Rick's life was more valuable than that and he had won. He wasn't about to go and rub it in.

 

\------------------------  
  
  
  
Rick managed to contain his anger just long enough to head back into the spare nest room. However, once back inside, he wasted no time unleashing the full extent of his rage onto the guns that sat on top of the work table. He picked up the first three he could get his hands on and threw them hard at the nearest wall, only to have to shield his eyes with an arm as they smashed apart, sending broken shards flying back at him and across the room.  
  
He tore open the drawers on the side of the work table and cleared out the top one entirely, launching five more guns and several failed prototypes straight through the open doorway of his room, grabbing up a couple of partially finished ones to discard with them. Next, he grabbed up an old voltmeter box; while it wasn't actually a gun, it had been used to test them so it went out as well. Rick launched it into the hallway as hard as he could; it made a loud smashing sound as it hit the wooden wall opposite the doorway and bits of it skittered everywhere across the floor outside.  
  
“Fucking hell! I'm not wasting any more time on this bullshit, so just take the damn lot right now!” Rick was yelling, his anger having essentially escalated into a full-blown temper tantrum, and entirely directed at the conversation he had just had with Birdperson despite the fact the other wasn't in the room. “Where the HELL DO YOU GET OFF TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!? You want to take my shit away from me!? Fucking TAKE IT THEN!” He started throwing screwdrivers and books out the doorway next. After another moment, he didn't even know what he was throwing anymore, as whatever ended up in his hands met the same fate; straight out into the hallway and onto the floor outside.

Then his anger turned towards the very table itself; he grabbed at the edges, struggling for a moment as he tried to flip the entire thing. When he was unsuccessful, he swept a hand across the desk, aggressively flinging off all the electrical components within reach. He sank heavily into his chair and slammed a fist down onto the top of the desk. It hurt, but at least it expressed a little of what he was feeling.  
  
“Fucking hell...” Rick gripped the edges of the table with both hands, and he was so angry that his arms were shaking. He just simply couldn't believe that his best friend, a person he trusted with his own life, a person he had fought alongside and won so many battles with, was telling him what to do as if he was a child, and taking away an important aspect of his life. Designing guns had been a huge part of his younger life and at one point it was all he had been doing. It made him feel powerless. It also felt like an act of betrayal rather than a means of keeping him safe. Of course, he was still thinking logically enough to understand where Birdperson was coming from but didn't agree with it in the slightest. He knew the other had his best interests in mind, but that certainly didn't do anything to make him feel better.  
  
As Rick finally did begin to calm down again, a strong sense of sadness and regret began to wash over him; he had spent years of his life designing some of the guns he had just thrown away. The scientist had poured countless hours of his time into diligently constructing those weapons and making sure every solder point, contact, switch, trigger, wire, and every connection point was absolutely precise and perfect. Now they were just trash and broken debris outside his door.

He lowered his head, thumping his forehead down onto the table in front of him. He suddenly didn't feel welcome in the house anymore, and he certainly didn't want to be there if the situation with Birdperson was only going to continue or escalate further.

He just sat for a while and allowed his temper the time to simmer down again, his mind returning to the next steps of his portal gun design process; the chemical pots he needed to use in order to etch his circuit board designs were harmful and toxic, and the etching process needed to be done in an area with good ventilation, all of which could be done outside.

Rick got to his feet, figuring he could do it far away from the tree house; he felt well enough to risk climbing down the tree and his back would probably tolerate it by now. He began going through the boxes in the back corner of the room, remembering that he had tossed a backpack back into one he had filled with unwanted stuff. Once he found it, he wasted no time cramming it full of supplies as well as the pots of chemicals he had stored on the desk after unpacking them. He snatched the blueprints up off the desk and rolled them up around his half-finished bottle of whiskey, stuffing them down into the side of the bag. He dropped his battery-powered ionic soldering gun on top of everything else and tightly zipped the bag shut.  
  
“I'm probably going to get bitched at for leaving, but I really don't give a shit at this point...” He muttered to himself as he hauled the bag over his left shoulder. The scientist carefully slipped out of the room and into the hallway, stealthily moving over the broken voltmeter and gun debris on the ground. He moved down the hallway, his pace speeding up as he saw Birdperson sitting on the couch in the living room; he had been intending to sneak out, but he had already been seen. He really didn't want to talk right now.  
  
Birdperson rose to his feet at once; he had seen Rick approaching and had been sitting quietly in the living room the entire time, patiently waiting for the other to calm down again.  
  
“Rick,” He said in his usual flat tone as he picked a cup off the coffee table, “I have brewed another batch of medicine for your stomach. I know that you are feeling better but I would like you to drink this. It is merely a precautionary measure at this point.” He held it out for the other to take.  
  
Rick stopped in front of Birdperson, shooting a death glare at him. When he saw the cup being offered to him, he very deliberately moved his right hand out, smacking the cup up from underneath, knocking it out of Birdperson's grasp and upending the contents all over him. “Fuck you!” His tone was cold and harsh as he spoke. He resumed his brisk pace towards the front door, shoving it open by slamming his shoulder into it. Once it swung open, he stepped outside.  
  
Birdperson just stood there as the contents of the cup splashed all over him; although he had just spent hours brewing it, it didn't matter. He watched Rick move out the front door and promptly moved to follow him outside, stopping as he saw the other peering over the edge of the landing. “Rick, what are you doing? Come back inside. You were sick yesterday and you still need time to recover.”  
  
Rick wasn't going to have a word of it. He held onto the backpack strap with his left hand and raised his right arm up, extending his middle finger back at Birdperson before jumping straight off, falling in a rough heap into a pile of bushes at the bottom. Once on the ground, he scrambled to his feet and broke into a run; he knew that Birdperson would probably follow him so he wanted to get as much of a head start as possible. He really didn't want to be found right now.  
  
Birdperson decided to let him go. Although he was vaguely impressed that the human had just jumped off the landing of his tree house without so much as a hint of hesitation. He knew the height from the landing to the ground was easily twenty feet and a fall like that wasn't going to be any good for him. As he watched his friend running away on the ground below, he was torn; he wanted to give Rick his independence and to make him feel like he was still in charge and in control. However, he didn't want him to be alone until his mind was in a better place. Regardless of how he felt, the situation had officially escalated out of his ability to manage it anymore.  
  
He spread his wings and in two powerful thrusts, he was high in the air. However, he didn't follow Rick and turned in the opposite direction. He knew somebody who had better ideas about this sort of thing than he did.

 

\-----------------------  
  
  
  
Rick continued running, though it didn't take him terribly long to slow down again; he hadn't eaten anything besides the sugar brick from the kitchen and didn't have anything else in him. He tired out reasonably quickly and slowed to a brisk jog, then a casual walking pace once he was out of breath. He simply kept moving, wanting to get as far away from the tree house as possible. Soon enough, he recognized one of the paths he had taken many times before over the years. He turned onto it and kept going.  
  
After a while, his travels took him to one of the many hot springs in the area; he knew the area well because he used it quite often during his last long-term stay on Bird World. As he sat down under the shade of an enormous tree, he set the bag down beside him and took out the blueprints, the whiskey bottle, a scratching tool, and a pair of clippers, and immediately got stuck back into his work. Although he was still sour over what had happened with Birdperson, he liked being outside; he'd been cooped up in the tree house for far too long and needed the change of scenery.  
  
Now that he didn't have any distractions to worry about, Rick's mind was entirely focused on what he was doing and the rest of the world around him had been completely zoned out. He followed the blueprint designs exactly as he had marked them out and was calm again, content to be doing exactly what he was good at, finding comfort in the familiarity of making something. After he had spent a couple of hours meticulously scoring out both circuit boards with the scratching tool, he opened up one of the chemical pots and dropped both of them in; they needed to soak for a couple of hours until they were completely saturated and couldn't absorb any more. He set the second pot aside next to it, ready for phase two.  
  
After making sure both jars weren't going to tip over, Rick stood on his feet and pulled the cork off his bottle of whiskey, taking a few chugs from it to celebrate his progress; he was finally getting somewhere. He had time to kill now, and although he was very hungry, he was near a hot spring. He figured he wouldn't be able to immerse himself completely while he still had the stitches in his back, but anything was better than nothing. After setting the bottle down again, he stripped his clothes off and dumped them onto the ground next to his bag. He headed straight into the warmth of the hot spring and initially stayed in the shallows because he hadn't expected it to be so warm. As he got used to the temperature, he ventured in deeper and finally allowed himself to relax, and his mind to wander again.  
  
He had no idea how to deal with what Birdperson had brought up with him; there was absolutely no graceful way to come back from that. He didn't regret how angry he had been either, as Rick needed to let Birdperson know that he wasn't going to tolerate being stepped on. Although he didn't know what to do and how to resolve the issue, he knew that he would have to apologize at some point and make it up to the other. Somehow.  
  
“Fuck... I'm such an asshole...” He muttered aloud to himself.  
  
Rick sighed as he moved even further into the spring; the water was now at the line of his butt, but it was about as far in as he could risk going. He bent over and began to splash warm water down his front. Even though he didn't have soap, he was in serious need of a wash; he'd been sick yesterday and smelled vaguely of vomit and dried sweat. Any attempt at washing that off had to be better than nothing at all. He splashed water over his hair and rubbed his hands vigorously through the thick mass of spikes, flicking the water out again once he figured he'd done a good enough job.  
  
He stood up again and idly picked at one of the pieces of gauze padding stuck to his butt; it was itching like crazy and he kind of wanted to know how the injury was doing underneath. He carefully peeled it off and ran a finger across the line of the sutures, immediately frowning when he recognized the shape of the injury, its curved line completely unmistakable; it had the exact diameter of the portal gun bulb after it had broken and cut into him.

As he leaned forward to splash more water over his chest and under his arms, he realized that he had no idea where to get another bulb that would be strong enough to contain the energies the portal gun emitted when it was on. He vaguely considered making one from scratch; the people of Bird World already knew how to make all kinds of glass.

Before he could think too much more, he heard a large flurry of powerful wing flaps overhead. He looked up, then all around him, only to jump in surprise when he saw a particularly large-bodied female bird-person land with an abrupt thud right next to his stuff; he certainly hadn't been expecting that. He watched her for a moment, waiting to see what she was going to do. His first observation about her was that she was huge; very round and fat. He wasn't about to judge her for that, though, as he was far more concerned that she would touch or knock his stuff over. He also had no idea who she was.

“H-hey!” Rick hurriedly called out to the newcomer, standing up tall, not seeming to care that his nether regions were exposed and very visible for her to see. “Get away from my science stuff! Don't touch that, y-you don't know what it is!” He began rapidly waving his hands as if motioning to shoo her away.

The female bird-person just looked back at him and began to laugh; the sight of the naked, spiky-haired, wingless human flailing his arms about was amusing all on its own, but she found his abrasive gravelly voice to be positively hilarious. Her wings fluttered around her shoulders and her blue-green neck feathers shook as she began to roar with screechy laughter. After a moment, three tiny hatchlings crawled up her back to get a look at what their mother was laughing at and they promptly joined in. 

Rick's eyes widened at that; was the sight of him naked really that funny? He suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious and moved both hands to cover his private parts. “D-did you seriously come here just to laugh at my ding-dong?! You're fucking disgusting! I'm gonna puke!”  
  
“Language, tut-tut-tut.” She waved a pointed finger at him before returning her hands to cuddle the bundle of blankets at her chest, which were supported around her with a cloth sling. “Whatever will the hatchlings think, my friend?”  
  
“Friend? I have no idea who the fuck you are!” Rick growled as he moved out of the spring and hastily moved the distance across the ground to pick up his lab coat, wasting no time to cover himself up with it despite the fact he was still dripping wet. It immediately clung to him.  
  
“Oh, I am indeed sorry,” the female's tone suddenly seemed very genuinely apologetic, “do you need a moment? I did not mean to disturb you.”  
  
Rick glared back at her, holding his lab coat closed with a hand, scowling as his wet hair stuck to his face in cold wet dripping clumps. “Oh I'm disturbed enough already without you being here... go away!” He told her, his tone firm and angry.  
  
The female bird-person grinned at him and resumed her loud screechy laughter, her whole chest seeming to shake with it.  
  
Rick narrowed his eyes, his expression completely flat and unimpressed; he hadn't meant for it to be interpreted as a joke. “Seriously, w-what the fuck do you want from me? Can you just... go away and leave me alone?” He decided he already didn't like this person - he found her far too loud and annoying for his liking. Female bird-people and their personalities were always kind of strange and erratic to him; males often tended to be far more predictable and tolerable. They were either monotone, stoic, or very neutral, kind of like Birdperson. Birdperson was good most of the time – Rick found his personality very tolerable and the guy could absorb his sour moods and explosions of temper without even the slightest hint of offense. However, this woman's personality was a complete polar opposite to Birdperson's. She was also being very, very annoying simply by being there.  
  
Even though the ambient air temperature was warm, the water on Rick's body had already gone cold and he began to shiver. “S-seriously, j-just f-fuck off already!”  
  
The large female watched him for a moment and began to step back. “Oh dear, you are cold. I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you in the middle of bathing. You should take a moment to get dressed again, yes?” She turned around to walk away down the pathway in an attempt to grant him some privacy. “Come children, give the human his space.”  
  
Rick stared at them and scooted behind the large tree, out of sight. He quickly took off the lab coat and used it as a towel, rubbing himself down with it as quickly as possible. He threw it over his head and vigorously rubbed his hair down. Once dry enough, he tossed the lab coat aside and grabbed up his pants and shirt, hastily pulling them back on. There wasn't much he could do about his hair for the time being and it would probably be damp for a few hours; it was also an incredible mess, more so than usual.  
  
As he sat down to put his shoes back on, his attention returned back towards the strange bird woman and he scowled; she had three tiny hatchlings who were very confidently holding onto her back and he still had absolutely no idea who she was. She wasn't going away either, which meant she most probably wanted to talk to him. Rick groaned at that assumption; he absolutely did not want to talk to anyone right now, let alone some random mother and her kids, who would very likely be just as annoying as her. He shook the jars of chemicals beside his bag, half tempted to shove the lids back on and pack them up so he could slip away before she could notice.  
  
The female bird person must have heard the sound, because she immediately turned around, looking back in Rick's general direction. “Are you decent?”  
  
Rick had to bite his tongue this time. He did not want to answer in his typical sarcastic manner and risk having her laugh at him all over again; he really wasn't in a sociable mood. He said nothing and simply stood up again, walking back out into the open. His only reply was a singular grunt in her direction as he stuffed his hands into his pants pockets; the conversation had barely begun and he was already done with it.  
  
“Such a strange choice of attire. But then again, you are not of this world, are you? No.” She said as she looked him up and down. “One would never think that such a tiny little thing would be responsible for so much on this planet.”  
  
“Hey, watch it, I'm not little!” Rick snapped back, his brow twitching momentarily at that one; he knew he wasn't the tallest person around, but he certainly wasn't short either. “Seriously, just get to the fucking point already, why the hell are you even here? I have important science shit to do and then things to test after that. Y-you don't even need to know what it is, it would be totally beyond your comprehension anyway.”  
  
The female gently tapped the bundle of blankets in her sling and smiled. “You know, Ricksanchez,” she pronounced the first and last name as if it was one word, “You are quite hard to find when you do not want to be found. I followed the description that was given, but you did not match it. The only way I found you from the air was because the plumage on your head is an unmistakable giveaway.”  
  
Rick was openly glaring hard at her now; she knew his name and he still didn't know who she was. “Get to the fucking point already! And my name's just 'Rick' – not 'Richard', not 'Mr. Sanchez', and NEVER 'Ricky'.” His left eye started twitching at the mere pronunciation of the last name he had given her. “God, if you ever call me that, I will rip out your flight pinions and fucking stuff them down your throat!”  
  
“Again, language,” she shook her head, “what will the children think? What will they grow up learning? You need to be a better influence on your family, Ricksanchez.”  
  
Rick folded his arms as he turned his attention away, glaring hard at his bag and chemical pots, finding them way more interesting to look at than her. There hadn't even been any point in explaining his name to her, and it took him every ounce of will not to yell out that his family was dead and that it didn't even matter anymore. He also didn't want to do that because even mentioning it would risk opening up a difficult conversation he didn't want to have with anyone right now, let alone a total stranger.  
  
The female tapped the bundle of blankets again, making very soft gentle tuttering and chirping sounds down at it. “Come on, little one. Wake up.” She looked back up at Rick and smiled. “So, you want to know why I am here, yes? I have something for you, Ricksanchez.”  
  
Rick gritted his teeth, his arms stiff at his sides now, his hands balled into fists. “What could you possibly have that I wan--”  
  
He never finished his sentence. The bird woman pulled the bundle of blankets out of the sling and moved the distance across to him, gently pushing it against his chest.  
  
Rick's expression visibly softened and his anger practically disintegrated as he took the bundle into his arms. Morty was inside and under a number of layers, very comfortably wrapped up and very much asleep. All that was visible was part of his face, his nose and his mouth. Rick shifted him onto one arm and took a moment to pull some of the blanket away from his eyes, figuring it would make him more comfortable.

“He is still sleeping,” she smiled as she watched them, “be kind to him, Papa. He needs you right now.”

“Aah, no no no,” Rick shook his head quickly, “I'm not his father, I'm his maternal grandfather.” He looked back up at her and narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell didn't you just tell me who you were in the first place? What was the point of screwing me around like that?” He scowled, suddenly feeling incredibly silly over the whole conversation. If he hadn't been so riled up, he probably would have been able to deduct who she was right away simply by looking at her; the three hatchlings on her back suddenly seemed like a dead giveaway. “What's your name again?”  
  
“It's Gresharak,” she chuckled at him, “and I did not tell you who I was initially because I wanted to see you for myself, Ricksanchez. I have heard a great deal many things about you and I wanted to find out what kind of person you are. You are indeed a strange one and very bad tempered to say the least. Totally unlike the males of my species.” She smiled, nodding once. “However, you are honest and blunt, which is a quality to be admired. Would you like to come back to my house for some food? You look like you could do with something decent in your belly.”  
  
Rick looked down at the jars of chemicals, then up at Morty, then back across to the woman nearby. He had to admit, the idea of food sounded very appealing right now, but he needed to finish the etching process. “I have too much to do,” he shrugged after a moment, “besides, how the hell would I climb your tree? I could do it on my own, but not with a kid like this.”

Gresharak stepped forwards again. She pulled the cloth sling off her body and then stepped in to place it around Rick, carefully adjusting it so it would fit him. She reached forward to pull open the front, smiling at him. “Put him in there.”  
  
Rick gritted his teeth as he reared his head back instinctively, feeling very uncomfortable with the other being so close to him. He wasn't a sociable person by nature and didn't like unfamiliar people so close in his personal space. He did what she said anyway, because he knew it would make her go away faster. He carefully tucked Morty into the open portion of the sling, raising his eyebrows as he noticed how easily he fit and how snug and secure he seemed in there. The youngster didn't even move an inch when he was reshuffled and kept sleeping.  
  
“I actually don't need this,” Rick said quickly after another moment, “I have something like it back up in the tree house at Birdperson's house.”  
  
“You can keep it as they are not hard to put together.” Gresharak stepped back from Rick, seeming pleased. “Your hatchling has never been able to hold on during flight so I fashioned this alternative for him. It is best if it stays with him.”  
  
“You took my grandson flying?” Rick had to huff at that; he had wanted to take Morty out for his first flight for a while but had been waiting until he was old enough to actually remember the experience. Now he had just learned that this complete stranger had already deprived him of the privilege and he was incredibly cranky about it. He knew it was a ridiculously stupid thing to get so worked up over, but it still angered him anyway.

Gresharak smiled back at Rick as she extended her wings; her wingspan was positively massive, and much larger than Birdperson's. “How do you think we get around?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, that was a stupid question...” Rick scowled further. “Touché.” His attention returned to the chemical pots on the ground. “Look, I'm glad you're enjoying talking to me because I know I'm interesting as all hell. But I still have shit to do, and I can't climb your tree while these things are still open. It's really important that the saturation process finishes without any interruptions.” He pointed to the jars on the ground as if to emphasize his point. “So go away already a-and leave me to it.”  
  
“How long will they take to finish?” Gresharak seemed genuinely curious now. She peered around him and down at the ground, not having a clue what the strange things were. However, if the smaller human was saying they were important, then they must have been. “Do you want to sit down and talk?”  
  
“No.” Rick grunted; it was an immediate response with no thought needed whatsoever.  
  
Gresharak was chuckling at him again. She stepped away to sit down near Rick's bag. “However long it takes, so be it. I need to ask you about your grandson anyway, that is also important. If you wish to keep leaving him with me, then I will need information.”

Rick stood there quietly, his left eye twitching; he wanted to scream so badly right now. Part of him also wanted to just run away, but he couldn't just abandon his portal gun circuit boards as they were far too important and he didn't have any more etching chemicals. He released a heavy sigh and begrudgingly sat down on the other side of the pots, keeping a safe enough distance away from the bird woman so she couldn't grab at him, touch him, or do anything else.  
  
“Don't sit too close to my science stuff. And definitely don't breathe that shit in,” Rick's tone was harsh as he spoke, “you wouldn't like the outcome.”  
  
“So,” Gresharak's smile faded, her expression turning more serious, “I have been told that you are not well. How are you feeling now?”  
  
Rick made a sharp irritated sound and folded his arms. “Yeah, no, don't even try to bait me. You said you wanted to ask shit about Morty, and you're asking about me right away? You don't get to do that. Instead, here's my reverse-ask - what makes you think I would have fallen for that? And how dare you even ask me that?! Seriously, NO.”  
  
Gresharak chuckled softly and began picking at the satchel attached to the belt on her side. After a moment, she pulled out a seed-cake that had been glued together with sugar syrup. She held it out for the other to take, not saying anything.  
  
Rick stared at the food being offered to him and wasted no time snatching it up so he could bite off a huge chunk with his teeth. As he began chewing, he immediately decided that he didn't like the texture or the fact that the seeds still had their husks on them. Still, he wasn't about to turn down free food, especially when he was so hungry. “So you think the way to a man's heart is through his stomach? That's a pretty cheap tactic, you know.”

Gresharak watched him for a moment before taking out more of the same seed blocks to feed to the hatchlings that were still very much attached to her back feathers. “No ulterior motive. You just looked like you could have done with some food. That should keep you sated until we are in my tree house.” 

“Thanks.” Rick grunted, but it didn't come out politely. “So just get to the point already. What did you want to ask me about my grandson?” His mind began to race with all kinds of possibilities, but he decided to just shut up and let her talk.  
  
Gresharak sighed this time, seeming a little sad. “I need to ask you, how difficult is it for your little one to settle while in your care?”  
  
Rick was silent; he'd never really thought about it. However, he chose his answer carefully because he didn't want to risk getting into an involved discussion. “It's not a problem. W-why do you ask?”  
  
“The one you call 'Birdperson' has brought him along to my house twice now and both times were because you have been completely incapacitated. I cannot fault you for that, but it would be beneficial to know what you do differently. Both times he has arrived in my tree house, his cries have been completely insatiable,” the bird woman shook her head sadly, “he spent well over half of yesterday crying. He is a miserable little boy. We managed to calm him down and he was perfectly happy to play once he was quiet, but my spirit mate does not like him and finds him to be entirely disruptive to our family.” She reached back to nuzzle the head of the first child she could reach. “But we don't think that of our little friend, now do we? No, we do not.”  
  
Rick watched her carefully, finding himself looking away and avoiding her eye contact after a short amount of time had passed. “To be completely honest with you, I don't really do anything differently. He just... does his thing.” He shrugged, not really having any other way to explain it.

“I must be honest with you here. The one you call 'Birdperson' has told me of your situation in detail, so I will not pry. I do not want to make you upset.” Gresharak's expression turned to one of sympathy. “But know this - I am no substitute. I am more than happy to take your hatchling when you have need of me to do so, but he needs you as he loves you dearly. Sometimes he cries like his life depends on getting back to you. He needs to stay with you for as long as he can because you seem to be one of the only happy fixtures in his world right now.”

“I know.” Rick's voice had become quiet as he lowered his head, his attention down on Morty. She wasn't telling him anything he already didn't know, but hearing it certainly wasn't making him feel any better. He sat there quietly, unwilling to say any more as he didn't want to participate in the conversation any longer. He looked over at the chemical pots and narrowed his eyes, wishing they would hurry up and finish so he could pack them up.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Gresharak was watching Rick's face carefully now; his sadness was open enough to be obvious and she wanted to turn the subject back in a positive direction to cheer him up, “he has made great friends with my brood already. When he is not crying or asleep, he is more than happy to play with them. Even though he does not have feathers or wings, it does not slow him down. He does not even seem to think about it.”

“Humans are adaptable.” Rick forced himself to sound bored as he reached over to pick up his whiskey bottle. “If you're not born with it, y-you tend not to think about it.” He pulled the cork off and a long swig from the bottle. “I have to s-stop you there because it's really impo-URRRPPtant - my name is Rick - just 'Rick'. Got it? I'm not telling you again.” He would have added more to the statement, but the bundle of blankets had started to twitch in reaction to the loud burp he had just made. He moved his free arm around Morty and began to gently pat him, not really wanting him to wake up before he was ready to.

“Very well, Rick.” Gresharak nodded as she watched him, and couldn't help but grin a little as she watched how gentle he was being with the sleeping child. “You may actually wish to wake him up soon. He has been asleep for most of the day, he is still recovering from the illness he had when he was handed over to me.”

“He can stay down for all I care,” Rick grumbled in reply, “I don't particularly want him jumping all over my science shit.” He set the whiskey bottle aside and reached over to place the lids back on the chemical pots. “Speaking of which, where's your tree house? Fuck this shit, it's nearly done. I'll just follow you there and climb up. I assume you have an open area outside your front door, yeah?” He moved to his feet and began to pack everything back into the bag, noting that his lab coat was still damp from being used as a towel. He stuffed it down the bottom, making a mental note to dry it out later; it was his last clean one.  
  
Gresharak watched him silently, a sly and devious grin coming over her face. Her flight pinions ruffled behind her back as she watched the small human pack up his things, and then she moved to her feet, extending her wings as if preparing for flight.  
  
Rick glared back at her, not understanding what had come over her. Then he decided that he didn't care. He made sure that Morty was secure in the sling at his chest as he hauled the bag over his back. “W-well?” He huffed in irritation. “The reason I'm asking is because I can just finish the rest of the process there, p-provided your stupid-ass kids don't touch it, that is... if they drink the chemicals, they'll be dead within the hour.” He made sure everything was secure one final time before glaring back at her again, not seeming to understand why she wasn't responding to him anymore. “Well? Say something. Give me some directions here, woman. I'm ready to go.”  
  
Without any warning whatsoever, Gresharak took two rushed steps at him, grab-tackling the smaller human around the chest, holding him firmly in both arms as she extended her wings to launch herself into the air. Within in three powerful flaps, she was soaring high above the trees.  
  
Rick did NOT like what was happening to him; the tackle had also taken him entirely by surprise and she was holding onto him so hard that he could barely breathe. The moment he left the ground, he started yelling, flailing his legs in protest. “W-what the fuck, woman!? Are you fucking crazy!? P-put put me down! Some fucking warning next time, y-you crazy bitch!”

Gresharak only replied with another round of loud screechy laughter as she used her wings to pick up one of the many updrafts in the sky, soaring even higher. In almost no time at all, she had covered the entire distance back to the community of tree houses that her kind lived in. In another couple of sharp wing flaps, she landed down onto the landing of her own tree house. She wasted no time letting go of Rick, who stumbled back from her simply to get away again.

“Y-you're fucking crazy!” Rick snapped at her. “Just for that, you can deal with Morty while I set my shit up on your porch! He smells pretty bad so you can already guess what that means.” He carefully pulled the cloth sling off his chest and handed it over with the bundle of blankets, though he was surprised that the youngster still hadn't woken up even through all the noise. “You owe me one for not telling me what you were going to do!”  
  
Gresharak was laughing all over again as she took Morty into her arms, readily accepting him from the human. “Oh, that was worth it just to see your face.” She cradled the sleeping bundle as she pushed the door open to her tree house, stepping inside.  
  
“Stupid crazy-ass motherfucking bitch...” Rick muttered as he dumped his bag down on the landing. He wasted no time unpacking it again and pulled out a pair of blue nitrile gloves along with the two chemical pots. After pulling the gloves on with a rubbery snap, he unscrewed the first jar and very carefully removed the saturated circuit boards, checking them over to see if they were finished. Once he was satisfied with their progress, he dropped them straight into the second pot of solution. He clamped the lid on and shook it up, then set it off to the side.  
  
“If anyone touches these things, I will fucking kick their ass...” He yanked the gloves off his hands and moved to his feet again, tossing them back into his bag. He kicked it out of the way and headed in the front door.  
  
The scene inside had already erupted into pure chaos; the three hatchlings were now flying around the living room and using the furniture as launching pads. Their mother was already busy in another part of the house so they were taking advantage of the fact they had no supervision whatsoever.  
  
Rick glared at them, already hating the amount of noise they were making. Part of him wanted to yell at them to shut up, but they weren't his responsibility or even his problem to deal with. He quickly decided he didn't care and stood near the front door, keeping out of their way.  
  
One of the hatchlings landed nearby and reached out to grab at the leg cuff of his pants, pulling on it. “What is this? You wear funny clothes. You look funny.” He told him very bluntly as he stared up at him. “You do not even have feathers.”  
  
Rick bared his teeth down at the male hatchling. “H-how would you like to play a game? It's called 'Your Ass, My Foot'. Touch me again and I'll let you play as many times as you want, you little piece of shit!” He folded his arms. “Now go away and leave me alone.”

The hatchling didn't seem in the slightest bit phased and ran across the floor to resume chasing his siblings.

Gresharak came out of the back room a few moments later, carrying a very sleepy Morty, who was now awake and resting comfortably against her, snuggled into her feathers. She carried him straight into the kitchen and began to finish cooking the food she had started hours ago, stirring it with a spoon in her free hand. Although it was nearly finished, it needed some final touches.

Rick observed the scene closely and stayed out of the way; he seemed content that Morty was so quiet in her company. Although it annoyed him that he had been dressed in traditional bird-people clothing, he supposed it had to be expected by this point. He didn't stay at his position near the front door for much longer, though; Morty would see to that.  
  
Morty had already seen Rick and started making loud noises as he called out to him. He began flailing his limbs and trying to climb right over the top of the bird-woman, wanting to be in his grandfather's company over hers.  
  
“Hah,” Gresharak said in amusement, not bothering to look up, “somebody wants to say hello to you.”  
  
“Y-yeah, it would seem that way.” Rick moved off the wall and headed into the kitchen. “Hey there, little buddy, how are you feeling?” He reached out to pick the youngster up, firmly yet gently holding him in his arms. “You were asleep all day, right? Does that mean you're going to keep me up all night with your bullshit?” Despite his words, he was grinning. “Just kidding, I don't have a sleeping pattern anyway.”  
  
Morty squealed with happiness and hugged onto his grandfather's arm, holding onto it as hard as he could, indicating he wasn't about to let him go again anytime soon.  
  
Without looking up from the stove, Gresharak smiled as she listened to the conversation taking place. “It would seem that somebody has missed you.” She was quiet for a moment. “Remember what I told you.”  
  
“I know what you said, y-you you don't have to repeat it.” Rick frowned back at her. As he stepped back from the kitchen, he could already smell the aromas coming from the pot on the stove and his stomach reacted by growling at him. He retreated to the couch in the living room and just sat there while the bird woman's children jumped all over the room around him. He simply kept his attention on Morty, not even seeming to flinch when one of the flying children crashed straight into his shoulder.  
  
Now that Morty was calm and in the company of his grandfather again, he was confident enough to let curiosity begin taking over. He clumsily wiggled out of Rick's arms and pushed himself off the couch, landing with an abrupt thump onto the floor below. It didn't seem to worry him, though, and he got to his feet, clumsily chasing after the nearest hatchling he could get his hands on, squealing to get her attention. He liked trying to grab their feathers and pull them out if he could get close enough. He had no concept of the idea that doing something like that would hurt, it was just another fun game to him.  
  
Rick just sat back and watched, rubbing his forehead. Although he was happy to see his grandson running around and playing with the other children, he didn't appreciate the level of noise in the room at all. His back was still itching like crazy and his hunger had developed past the point of starving; he started to feel dizzy and fatigued. None of these factors were helping his mood and he put his head down, closing his eyes, sighing. He didn't want to be there; he wanted to get back to work. But he needed food badly, and Morty was having fun so he didn't want to deny him that. It had been too long since he had seen the kid so genuinely happy.

“Your little one has already been fed, you do not have to worry about him right now. Take care of yourself.” Gresharak stood over him, holding a large bowl of soup she had just made. She set it down on the table in front of Rick, offering him a smile. “Here, eat this. Are you OK?”  
  
“To be perfectly honest with you,” Rick opened his eyes again and sat up to pick up the bowl, his voice quiet and resigned, “I-I'm pretty fucking far from OK.” He picked up the bowl and took the spoon out, taking a moment to examine what he was about to eat. It was soupy mush and fairly close to what he had been fed the other day. He knew he would get sick of eating the same thing before too long, but right now, food was food.  
  
Gresharak simply stood back. She had felt the pain in that statement and looked back at him with gentle sympathy on her face. Part of her just wanted to pull him up into her arms and hug him, but she had already figured out that he was the stand-offish type and likely wouldn't appreciate it. She opened her mouth to say something, only to be distracted by the sound of books falling out of the bookcase at the other end of her living room.  
  
“What are you doing, child!?” She hurriedly stepped away to begin chasing her children, her tone swinging to motherly and authoritative in an instant. “We do not jump on the furniture, children! Get off that at once!”  
  
Rick was quiet again as he watched the others. He wasted no time shoveling the food straight into his mouth; this time it had grain and a few other ingredients that he couldn't identify through the mushy texture. He didn't know what they were and didn't even care if they were bugs or worms this time; he was hungry enough to eat anything.

“Oh, how rude of me. I never did introduce my children to you.” Gresharak turned around in the sudden realization of her words. She picked up the first one and walked over to the couch with him, smiling as he tried to climb up onto her head. “This is Flitarak, my eldest. He's turning three in the next complete moon phase.”

"Don't care." Rick replied with his mouth full, swallowing after a moment. He shoved another spoonful into his mouth and resumed eating. He was already starting to feel better.

"The other two are fraternal twins,” the bird woman continued, pointing down at the others as she indicated to them, “we were fortuitous enough to have two eggs that breeding season. They are Parsharah and Lakkarah and are male and female, respectively. Keep a close eye on them if you see them in your travels, as they like to escape the tree house and go missing. They are not strong fliers yet and they are still small enough to risk being eaten by predators.”  
  
“Again, d-don't care.” Rick dropped the spoon on his lap and picked up the bowl with both hands, drinking the rest of the contents. He set it back down on the coffee table and a loud burp erupted from his mouth. “Well, it isn't what I'm used to eating, b-but it will fill the hole for a while. T-thanks, I guess.” He moved to his feet, his attention on the door.

“You do not wish to stay here any longer?” Gresharak watched him carefully, her attention glued to his face as if it would give away anything of what he was feeling right now. 

“Nope.” Rick replied with a shrug, seeing no reason to lie. “I still have too much to do.” He jumped slightly as Morty crash tackled his legs and he bent down to retrieve him from the floor; it was convenient because it meant he didn't have to go chasing after him. “Once I have that stuff outside finished, we can do anything we want to... the multiverse becomes my plaything.” He headed out the front door and set Morty down so he could pack up his things again; the lid needed to stay closed on the second chemical pot, so it could be done anywhere he felt like it.  
  
Gresharak followed him outside and stood in the doorway, her huge frame almost blocking the space entirely. “Where will you go?”  
  
“Away from here.” The answer was blunt and short as he scowled back at her. She was asking too many questions for his liking. He didn't want to be there anymore and now that he had food in his belly, he had no reason to be there any longer.

“You know, you can come back to the house anytime you wish,” the feathers on the bird woman's head were ruffled again, and although her tone was gentle and motherly, she seemed concerned; she didn't want him to leave. “Bring your little one back anytime; it is a privilege to care for him in your absence.”

“Whatever....” Rick grunted as he placed Morty into the sling, checking him a second time to make sure he was secure. He hauled the bag onto his back and peered down over the edge of the landing, spotting a rope ladder nearby - perfect. “Thanks for feeding me, by the way. I'll have to stop taking advantage of your charity at some point, and...” he paused, his voice tired and fed up, “I kind of owe you now, f-fuck it. So I'll build you some science shit or something, whatever you want. If you need anything done, you already know how to find me.” He stepped off the landing and then began to climb down the rope ladder. After a moment, he had disappeared out of sight altogether.  
  
Gresharak watched him go, completely silent. She shook her head sadly; she hadn't wanted him to leave so soon, but he had been so adamant about it. She simply lingered on the landing, listening to him climb down the ladder, making sure he was safely on the ground before heading back towards the door.  
  
She didn't get much further, though.

After another moment, Birdperson landed hard on the landing. He had been watching vigilantly from his own tree house and now that Rick was gone, he wanted to talk. His attention was immediately fixed on the bird woman and he waved a hand to get her attention. “I see you found him out there. Thank you for retrieving him from the wilderness and thank you for feeding him for me.”

“It is no problem.” Gresharak said dismissively as she turned to grin at her neighbor. “He has a very abrasive personality and his language is positively embarrassing to listen to, but his heart is genuine and I enjoyed finally getting to meet him. I can see why you would consider him to be such a dear friend,” she quickly added, “also, his child is adorable.”  
  
“Yes, well,” Birdperson shrugged, not wanting to chat. He wanted to know the answers to his most pressing questions. “Did you get the chance to talk to him? Did he say much to you? Did you get him to listen?”  
  
“He didn't seem to want to talk, and I did not want to push him because he is in great pain. You can see it in his eyes. He also gives himself away.” Gresharak said, her tone becoming sad. “But I think he will be all right. He needs time.”  
  
“I will be much happier to leave him on his own once he returns to normal.” Birdperson said in his calm monotone voice. “I am not sure what to think at the moment.”  
  
“You were right to worry. But he seems driven like he still has purpose. As long as he still has the child with him, he will have something to focus on. See that they stay together, yes? He may never fully recover from what has happened to him, but he needs contact with friends and loved ones.” Gresharak's tone had become thoughtful as she expressed her opinion. “He also needs time alone.”  
  
“I am not willing to give him that at the moment,” Birdperson replied simply, “I have damaged our friendship, but his life is worth more than that.”  
  
“You need to give him the chance.” She told him. “Nothing will fix itself until you give that back to him.”  
  
“I do not want to leave him out there by himself.” Birdperson explained his feelings with no emotion whatsoever in his voice. He knew he was repeating himself, but there was no other way he could put it.  
  
Gresharak shrugged at him. “You have to be willing to try.”

 


	7. Full Ricksclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written by Kat_Aclysm  
> Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick
> 
> Disclaimers + Copyrights: I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.
> 
> NOTE: So this has taken FOREVER, but I have the wonderful Unlvcrjchick beta-reading my chapters, now. If you want to rush ahead and read the ff.n version, it's up to Chapter 33 at time of publication. But the cleaned up, beta read version will start being posted here on Ao3 again. I think I can manage a chapter update once a week so as not to spam the R&M catagory.
> 
> Yay!
> 
> If you want to drop me a line, ask questions, or even say hi, I'm active on Tumblr as RickAndMortyByKat (real creative username, I know)

** Chapter 7 – Full Ricksclosure  **

  
**November 21st, 8:15pm Local Time, 2001**  
**Birdperson's Tree House**  
**Bird World, Dimension Unknown**

**  
** \----------------------------------

Rick returned to Birdperson's tree house just after sundown; spending the remaining daylight hours with Morty and getting his circuit boards finished had been more important to him than returning home. Climbing back up the tree was a lot harder than he remembered and it had to be done with even more care than usual with the grumbling youngster in the sling tied around him. Once he was back up on the landing to Birdperson's tree house, he made a mental note to install a rope ladder at some point; it had been practical back at the other house. He hesitated before pushing the door open as he still wasn't in a decent enough mood to talk just yet. Even though he'd accomplished pretty much everything he'd wanted to do today, his mind was already moving ahead through the next steps of the building process and he knew it wouldn't stop until it was finished.  
  
He shrugged after a moment, deciding that he didn't care what might happen. He shoved the door open and stepped inside.  
  
Birdperson looked up from the couch; he had been patiently waiting for Rick's return and was debating the possibility of having to fly out and retrieve him from his hiding place. Although he was pleased that he didn't have to do that now, he didn't get up or change his expression.  
  
“Rick. We need t--”  
  
“No. We don't need to do anything right now, and for the time being I'm done with you, so fuck off!” Rick's sharp reply was dispensed instantly as he cut Birdperson off. He walked past him in a quickened pace and headed for the spare nest room again, noting that the pile of debris he had left in the hallway had been completely removed. He slammed the door behind him, making a point of expressing the fact that he was still very bitter. As he stepped into the middle of the room, his first observation was that his pile of dirty laundry had been cleaned and folded in neat piles on top of his cot. He would have been more annoyed about that but it meant that Morty finally had some of his own clothes back.  
  
Meanwhile, Morty was bored; he had a short attention span and resumed his frustrated wiggling in the sling because he wanted to move. He flailed his arms, whacking Rick in the chest, making loud demanding noises up at him. He had been confined the entire climb up the tree and now that it was over, he was quite fed up of being there.

Rick took the cue and took Morty out of the sling, placing him down on the ground. “Shut up, kiddo... I'm really starting to get tired of your shit.” He stepped over to the work table and dumped his bag down on top of it, removing both chemical pots and the other things he had stored in there. He packed the first pot away and then the second. He dropped both circuit boards on the desk in front of him, pleased that they were finally complete and ready for hand loading components onto. His eyes fell on the old portal gun fragments at the back corner of the desk and he reached over to pick them up, only to dump them back down directly in front of him.

Morty followed his grandfather straight across the room and bumped straight into his leg, hugging onto it. “R-rii!” He announced with particular firmness.  
  
Rick looked down at him, then pulled up the chair so he could sit down. “Yeah yeah, buddy, I know you're saying my name. Look, settle down, huh? I'm not going anywhere. I actually need to work for the next couple of hours.” He reached down to pick Morty up, placing him into his lap. He spread the portal gun pieces across the workspace and arranged them in the rough order that correlated to each part if the device had still been intact. Now that he had the time, he wanted to work out just how much he could salvage. He picked up a flat-bladed screwdriver and began using it to lever the broken casing off one of the larger fragments.

Morty sat back and curiously watched his grandfather working. He vaguely recognized the parts; they were the same color as the weird thing that Rick had told him he wasn't allowed to touch. He was content to sit there quietly and not interfere, just happy to be back in the company of his favorite person.

“Y-you're a good kid, Morty.” Rick told him after a minute. He set the broken fragment down on the table along with the screwdriver, then reached down to pat the little boy on the head, relieved to see that he was finally feeling like his old self again. “The last couple of days have been a really rocky road for the both of us, huh? I think you came out of it better than I did. It's nice to get back to the basics.” He reached over to pull his bottle of whiskey from the bag and set it down on the table. “If you can sit there and behave yourself for once, you can stay as long as you want.”  
  
Morty leaned into Rick's chest, resting the side of his head right up against his sternum. He could hear his grandfather's slow, steady heartbeat and it was calming for him to listen to.  
  
Rick took his quietness as a sign of consent and resumed what he was doing. He picked up the handle of his old portal gun and examined it closely. “If anything from this stupid device survived, it means I don't have to redesign it from scratch... s-should have done that in the first place, but everything else got in the way...” He muttered aloud to himself as he used his ionic soldering gun to extract the battery and held it up to the light, glad to discover that it was completely intact.

“Oh-ho, hell yeah!” He cheered, genuinely pleased. Although his old portal gun quickly drained its battery while it was on, it was better than nothing; it also meant that he didn't have waste more even more time acquiring another. 

Morty looked up at his grandfather, grinning at his sudden outburst. He pulled himself onto his feet with one hand and reached up to grab at his hair with the other.  
  
“Be careful where you put your feet, Morty. I don't want you to stand on anything important to me.” Rick remained still while he looked down at his grandson, not wanting him to fall off. “You know what this means?” He began idly playing with the battery in his fingers. “It means we can move this along a little faster, which means we can finally get off this damn planet and do something useful with ourselves. Once we have the new portal gun together, I'll have to show you some of the interesting places I like to visit.”  
  
Morty had no idea what he was talking about. He didn't care either, because Rick's hair spikes were far more interesting than anything he had to say. He immediately snatched at the first one he could grab and began to pull on it as hard as he could.  
  
Rick winced in response; it had hurt. He gently set the battery aside and put his hands around Morty's chest, returning him to the floor. “Y-yeah that's enough. You're bored, huh? It's too quiet in here, let's put some music on or something...” The scientist quickly turned around in the chair and began to rummage through the bottom drawers at the right side of the work table. He found a small CD player and pulled it out, slamming it down onto the desk. He plugged it in and was pleased to discover that it still worked. “Hell yeah, this shit keeps getting better!”  
  
Morty watched with intense curiosity. Although he was unhappy about being put down, he ran around the other side of the chair to get a better look at the new object. He reached up in the attempt to grab at it, figuring that it was something new to play with.  
  
Rick smirked down at the little kid, amused by his enthusiasm. He pulled out one of the many CDs that had been in the drawer and popped it into the player, turning the music up high; even though the appliance was small, the sound it made was loud enough to completely drown out any normal conversation.

“You hear that, buddy?” Rick loudly spoke over the blaring noise, a wide grin across his face. “That's called a beat, motherfucker! Pure fucking awesome! Yeahhh, that's what I'm talking about!” He picked up his ionic soldering gun and pried apart the next portal gun piece for salvage, nodding his head in time to the music.

Morty watched his grandfather's strange behavior with wonder and awe. He wasn't quite old enough to understand music entirely yet, but it was certainly enough to captivate his interest. He grabbed at Rick's pant leg and began loudly whining as he pulled on the fabric, wanting to be back up in his lap.  
  
Rick started singing along to the music as he pulled apart the damaged circuit-board fragment. He discarded part of it across the desk because it was beyond salvageable. In the same movement he picked Morty up and deposited him back in his lap, resuming where he had left off. Now that his mind was back in the things he enjoyed, his mood had already started to pick back up.  
  
Morty settled down again relatively quickly. He couldn't work out why his grandfather was behaving in such a strange manner, but his positive energy was making him happy. He began to clumsily nod his head, imitating what Rick was doing.

“Oh, you like that, buddy?” Rick chuckled as he reached across to turn the volume knob all the way to the top. “I should get out the guitar later and play some shit for you. We used to play such utter garbage, it's actually embarrassing to think about it... I can do so much better now. Sometimes it was derivative, but people ate it up like it was the best thing in the universe.” He threw a fragment of portal gun casing across the table, no longer needing it. “Some people have no fucking taste!” He paused for a moment to laugh, then got straight back into it.

Rick continued to work through the evening and late into the night. Morty fell asleep in his lap, not at all bothered by the loud music. Because the volume was up so high, Rick didn't hear the knocking sound at the door and kept on working, completely engrossed in what he was doing. He didn't notice Birdperson walk into the room, nor did he notice he was even there until the other male was standing beside him, his hand on the CD player appliance cord. He pulled it out of the wall socket and the room went silent.

“What the hell!?” Rick looked up in the same instant the sound cut out, glaring hard up at Birdperson. With the look he was giving him now, he could have easily gone into a murderous rage. “What's the big fucking deal? Why'd you turn off my jams?”  
  
“It is getting late, Rick. Your music is disturbing the neighborhood community.” Birdperson's tone was calm and he simply stood there, holding the appliance cord in his hand. He hadn't wanted to come in at all and he knew that disturbing Rick wasn't going to do him any favors, so he promptly explained the reason for doing so. “Two of my neighbors came to my door just now to complain to me.”  
  
“I don't give a shit what they think!” Rick spat back at him as he reached out to snatch the appliance cord away. “You don't get to tell me what to do anymore!” He sounded much more like a rebellious teenager than an adult as he used his free hand to point hard at the doorway. “Get the fuck out of my room before I kick your ass!”  
  
Birdperson shook his head as he departed the room again, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Rick wasted no time plugging the CD player back in, though he adjusted the volume to a much more acceptable level this time. “Fucking little bitch...” He growled aloud to himself, needing a moment to calm down before he picked up the soldering gun again. He frowned as he suddenly felt a warm patch of wetness growing across his left pant leg and looked down, deeply scowling as he realized that Morty was peeing on him in his sleep; his diaper had been soaked and the excess was leaking straight through onto Rick's clothing.  
  
“Ah, come on, not again! This is bullshit! Why do you keep doing this to me?” Although he was annoyed, he couldn't get too angry about it; this one was on him. He had been far too involved in work to have been paying attention to Morty's upkeep. He simply put his hands under the little kid's arms and picked him up, carrying him over to the floor. After laying him down on his back, he began stripping off all of his clothes; he had been meaning to remove the stupid Bird World native attire from him anyway.

Morty made small, fussing noises in protest; the floor was cold and he didn't want to be woken back up. He didn't seem to care what was happening to him though; he just hadn't wanted to be moved.

“Shut up. Just... shut up.” Rick hissed at him as he reached under the table to grab a fresh diaper out from the box and then went about the task ahead with haste, hating every second of it. After it was done, he placed the unwanted articles of clothing into a pile on the floor away from the chair, making a mental note to dispose of it all as quickly as possible; he certainly didn't want to give it back and risk getting into another conversation with the obnoxiously loud bird woman again.  
  
He carried Morty over to the cot and set him down, covering him up with the blankets. “Just... stay there. And don't piss in my bed.” He huffed at him, still very much annoyed. “I'm probably going to work through the night, so go back to sleep. I'm going through a particularly productive streak right now and I don't want to break it.”

Morty made a small noise in response and curled up. He was comfortable and warm, and drifted off again in no time at all.  
  
Rick sat back down at the chair and kicked the box under the desk for good measure, wanting to dissipate some of his anger. In the sharp movement, something large and metallic bounced out and rolled across the floor. Rick had to narrow his eyes at the sound; he certainly didn't remember packing anything into it that would sound even remotely like that.

What he saw on the ground made him stop dead in his tracks; there was a large unopened can of baby formula on its side where it had fallen next to the box. He quickly reached down to pick it up, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he examined it, his mind racing with all kinds of theories as to how it could have gotten there. The can was completely sealed and brand new; it looked like it had been picked straight from a grocery shelf and could have easily lasted Morty more than a month if he rationed it out properly.

“What the hell...?” His eyes widened in disbelief as he placed it on the desk. Now he wanted to know what else was in there and upended the whole box onto its side, discovering that it had been stuffed full with all kinds of baby supplies like bottles, a large quantity of clothing, and entire packs of diapers.  
  
“What the fuck?!” Rick continued to stare at the items that had come out of the box, but couldn't work out how it had gotten there. In another moment, his bewilderment had shifted towards anger and he was at the door, yelling into the hallway.  
  
“Birdperson! W-what the fuck are you playing at?! I-is this meant to be some kind of joke?” He stepped back from the door, arms folded across his chest. He didn't particularly want to see Birdperson again so soon, but he needed an explanation.

Birdperson moved up the hallway again, silently standing outside the door. When he realized that Rick was staring back at him expectantly, he took a singular tentative step into the room to stand beside him, not really wanting the other male's temper to flare up again.  
  
“Well?” Rick sharply growled at him, his expression a mix between utter confusion and anger. “What the hell is this? Are you fucking with me right now?” He nodded in the direction of the pile on the floor.  
  
Birdperson took a moment to assess what he talking about, only to conclude that he didn't know what was going on either. “No, Rick. I am not.”

"Oh, is that so? Are you serious? How the fuck did this all get here, then?!” Rick's arms were frantically flailing as he motioned to the pile on the floor beside his chair. “Where did you get this stuff, a-and why the hell were you holding out on me until now? Shitty timing by the way, it sure would have been a hell of a lot more useful a couple of days ago!”

“This is not my doing.” Birdperson said plainly as he looked around the room. He stared at the mess on the floor, then at the small electrical components scattered across the table. “You will need to reorganize your inventory.”  
  
“O-oh go fuck yourself, Birdperson!” Rick retorted, having taken the other man's words as an insult. “Seriously though, you're not dicking around with me, right?” His eyes were staring expectantly at Birdperson now, trying to read his expression for any hint that might answer his question. “This... t-this wasn't you?” His anger dissipated and confusion had set back in over his mind.

Birdperson slowly shook his head. “No.” He would have offered more, but couldn't understand the situation either. He was just relieved that Rick was willing to talk to him again.

Rick's brows furrowed and he was suddenly deep in thought, silent. He took a moment to scratch at his back again, his attention down on the hoard. He stepped across the room and crouched down beside the pile, idly flicking a hand through the stack of baby clothes and packs of diapers, instantly recognizing the branding; they were the same kind of diapers that Beth would have bought for Morty if she had picked them up from her local grocery store.

“If you didn't do this... then how the hell did this stuff get here?” He sat heavily in the chair and leaned forwards as he stared at the can of baby formula again, trying to rack his brains for any kind of logical explanation. Now that he thought about it, there was no way that Birdperson could have obtained any of these things for him; he didn't know much about his species to begin with, let alone where to get baby supplies from. He didn't even know what humans ate most of the time and had needed help from his neighbor just to work out how to feed them.  
  
“It honestly looks like something that you would have brought with you through the portal.” Birdperson suggested as he followed Rick's gaze to the foreign object on the table. “It is not something that one would expect to find on Bird World.”  
  
“Portal...” Rick said thoughtfully through the bombardment of questions running through his head, his voice distant. He sat back up in the chair as his mind returned him to reality, his gaze locked on Birdperson again. “Earlier this morning, what made you think I had finished my portal gun already?” Although the question came out rather suddenly, he desperately had to know the answer. “You know I haven't finished it, I-I haven't fucking shut up about it the entire time I've been here!”

“Yes, now that you mention it, I did find that strange.” Birdperson nodded slightly as he continued watching the other. He had seen it many times before, but watching Rick think his way through something had always intrigued him. It was definitely better than being on the receiving end of his anger yet again. “As I said to you when I first saw you in the kitchen, I had assumed you finished it because I saw the green light under your door after you finally agreed to take the medicine I had made for you. The source of that light has only ever come from one place and that is your portal gun. It is completely unique. It could not have been mistaken for anything else.” 

Rick was silent as he listened through Birdperson's explanation. His eyes widened suddenly in the realization that there was only one other kind of person that had access to portal gun technology - and that was himself.  
  
He had always suspected that other versions of himself existed, and the day he had finally cracked the equation behind generating coordinates to different dimensions had been a very defining moment in his life. Even though his first quantum multidimensional portal device was a clunky piece of garbage and far too heavy to be portable, the very fact it existed and worked had proven what he already knew.  
  
He knew that other Ricks existed. There were many of them in different dimensions, living on their own dimensional timelines, just like him. The idea of meeting a parallel version of himself had been an appealing thought at first; the chance to talk to another whose intellect matched his own was an appealing and exciting prospect. However, none of the encounters with other Ricks had ended well; they either treated him indifferently, tried to beat him up, or wanted to argue because they were complete assholes, just like himself. A couple of the Ricks had gotten defensive and territorial about the impostor in their dimension and tried to kill him; he promptly left those ones alone, never to return. The least hostile encounter with a Rick had ended in the other one simply telling him not to interfere with another Rick's timeline, as it wasn't good conduct. He had learned through this encounter that most Ricks generally didn't interact with each other and that they had a strict non-interference code. After that, he returned to his own native dimension and stopped trying to seek them out; if they didn't want to be disturbed, then neither did he. But all of that had happened a long time ago and he hadn't bothered to seek any other Ricks out since then.  
  
He simply couldn't fathom why it would be happening now.

If it had been a Rick who had jumped into his dimension to deliver the box of goods, he was very much interfering and there had to be a good reason behind it. Rick began to wonder what kind of motives the other Rick might have, and then he began to wonder if the other Rick was intending to target him, or worse, kill him. He knew far too much information for it to have been an act of random kindness - Ricks simply didn't do that because they were assholes.

He concluded that the box of goods was clearly a calculated move with purpose. 

Rick realized he must have looked rather concerning by now, because Birdperson was openly staring at him. He didn't care about that however, and his attention shifted back and forth from the window to the open doorway. He didn't know where the other Rick was, but he already felt uneasy; the box of goods meant that the other Rick knew exactly what was going on. It was a very clear message: he was being watched. The other Rick must have known he was running low on supplies, but he simply wouldn't accept the fact that there was any positive motive behind being given everything he needed; he was almost positively certain it had been done just to fuck with him.  
  
It was certainly working.  
  
Birdperson watched him carefully, not finding his continued silence particularly reassuring. “What is wrong, Rick?”

Rick didn't answer. He knew there was no point in running; if he was being watched then the other Rick would more than likely know where to find him no matter where he fled. He leaned forward in the chair and put his head down onto the table; the thought of the Galactic Federation tracking him to the ends of the universe was bad enough, but at least he could escape that because they didn't have access to multidimensional portal technology. If another Rick was watching and wanted him, all he could do was wait for them to arrive and fight back. He wasn't even able to do that with much effectiveness anymore either because he'd given up all his guns; they were either broken or completely inaccessible to him right now.

“Rick?” Birdperson was standing near the chair now. He wanted to help but knew things were still sour between them. He simply stood there, not knowing what else to do. “If there is any way I can assist you, please tell me.”

Rick finally sat up again after a couple more moments of silence, looking back up in Birdperson's direction, his brows creased in guilt and worry. Despite everything he had said and done to him, the guy was still trying to help him and he felt terrible. He wasn't even sure if there was any point explaining the situation to the other, Birdperson probably wouldn't know how to handle it anyway. Rick also found himself worrying that if Birdperson did interfere, the other Rick would possibly harm or kill him if he was feeling particularly malevolent and he didn't want that at all. He simply didn't know what another Rick might do to him, because the only predictable thing about other Ricks was that they were completely unpredictable.

There was no point running, there was no point in doing anything. His expression became completely unreadable as he suppressed his fear and worries; there was little else he could do.

“Can you please just... get out.” Rick said finally, his voice quiet. “I-I... I need to be alone for a while.”

Birdperson nodded his head once. He had wanted to say so much more, but he respected Rick's wishes and left him be. He silently departed through the door again, closing it behind him.

After he heard the door shut, Rick returned his attention back to the can of baby formula; even though its mere presence was doing his head in, he was glad to have it there to use. Even if he did finish the portal gun, he was sure he could be tracked, no matter which dimension he escaped to. And if the other Rick wanted him dead, it was only a matter of time.

He made a loud sigh and put his head back, staring up at the ceiling; so many conflicting thoughts all at once, and worse; he still had to do something about Birdperson because it was nagging heavy guilt in his mind now. He had been abrasive and completely unfair to his friend and it had been going on far too long for him to tolerate it anymore. He had absolutely no idea how to come back and apologize to him; he'd never been any good at that. If there was another Rick coming after him, Birdperson might be the only one who could make any useful attempt at trying to protect him.

Rick moved to his feet and picked up the whiskey bottle he had been busy with over the last couple of days; he had to fix things again. He also knew that if he was ever going to have a chance at breaking through his own pride and ego to say all the things he needed to say, he would have to be very, very drunk. He pulled the cork off the bottle and quickly downed the remaining contents. Once that one was empty, he got started on the second one.

So much for rationing it.

 

\------------------------

  
Birdperson was asleep when the drunken human stumbled into his room. He was a light sleeper at the best of times and so when he heard the first footsteps in his immediate surroundings, he was already awake enough be aware of everything that was happening. He heard three more steps shuffling towards his nest-bed and he sat up, turning his bedside light on, immediately turning his attention towards the intruder.  
  
Rick stood there, his body swaying uncoordinatedly. He furrowed his brows in discomfort and his eyes blinked independently of one another in reaction to the sudden difference of light. “Heeeey...” He managed to slur out, taking another step forward, promptly falling over his own feet, landing flat on his face. He managed to keep the bottle steady though, not spilling any of the contents as he went down.  
  
“Rick, why are you still awake?” Birdperson asked, though he wasn't the slightest bit annoyed to have been woken up. He continued to watch Rick carefully, and he wasn't at all surprised when he saw him go down. He could already smell the heavy stench of alcohol in the air surrounding him and immediately knew what was going on. “Have you been drinking again?” He already knew the answer, but asked anyway.  
  
“Mmm... m-maybe a little.” Rick's reply came from the floor.

“On a scale of one to ten,” Birdperson peered over the edge of the bed, his attention on the few, powdery-blue hair spikes he could see, “how inebriated are you right now?”

“N-nine-nn-nineteen.” Rick's answer was rather abrupt as he pushed himself back up onto his feet. He took another swig from the whiskey bottle before stumbling ahead again, falling face-first down onto the nest-bed, his head landing next to Birdperson's feet.

Birdperson was used to seeing Rick blind drunk like this and the behavior almost always had good reasoning behind it. He was quiet as he tried to work it out, though he quickly concluded that it could be one of many reasons right now.

“N-not like it's not a big deal...” Rick told him suddenly, “I c-can stop anytime I want.”

“Perhaps you should go back to bed, Rick.” Birdperson suggested. “It is the middle of the night.”  
  
“Sh-shut up. Don't... d-don't tell me what to do.” Rick's reply was automatic. He turned his head to the side as the entire room swayed around him, and then he decided he was too incapacitated to attempt standing up again in the immediate. “You're... you're my good buddy, Bir-UUUURRRGGGGGperson.” He coughed for a moment after that burp. “Are... aren't you?”  
  
“Yes, Rick.” Birdperson replied, his voice calm. “At least, I assume we are still friends.”

“Hell... h-hell yeah we are!” Rick raised the whiskey bottle in an uncoordinated toasting gesture. “You're... you're my b-best friend, Birdperson... y-you... y-you know that, right?” He hiccuped softly. “I... I-I'm really sorry about my r-recent conduct, I've been a real dick to you in the l-last couple of days.” His brows creased in heavy regret. “F-fuck...” He had hoped that getting drunk would numb some of his emotions, but right now they were all over the place. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hide them or to be open in his apology to the other, but quickly realized that he was too far gone to even bother trying.  
  
“While I will not disagree with you,” Birdperson paused, carefully choosing his next words, “you had your reasons. I am sure everything is still raw. You will adjust to your new situation in time. You are adaptable and you always have been.”  
  
“Th... t-thanks for the vote of confidence, but,” Rick made a failed attempt at trying to sit up. He rolled off the bed and crashed onto the floor. “Most of the time I'm just... just fucking around, p-pull... pulling it out of my ass.”  
  
Birdperson sat up properly this time and peered over the bed to make sure that Rick hadn't hurt himself, relaxing a little when he saw that he was perfectly fine. “Get off the floor, Rick. It is not comfortable down there.”  
  
“F-fuck how I'm feeling,” Rick's reply was rather sharp and annoyed, “wh-what about you?”  
  
“I am fine, Rick.” Birdperson's response was plain and monotone. “Perhaps you will be too once you stand up again.”  
  
Rick forced himself to his feet, his entire body swaying as he stood there, trying to maintain his balance. “Hah, good one!” He seemed to be having a hard time focusing his eyes anywhere ahead of himself, but he stared back at the other, his expression stubbornly determined. “Full disclosure, BP... I-I'm not fine, and n-nothing is-is ever going to be the same again... a couple of days ago, I was fine, but..."

Rick drunkenly stumbled back across to the bed, heavily sitting down on it. He launched straight into his rambling drunken story in great detail, even though he knew he had already given Birdperson the abridged version. He slurred his words out as he told Birdperson about the park, about the stupid sandpit candy incident, and then the appearance of small Federation ships in the sky; first five, then nine, then too many to count, his mind being able to recall every vivid detail because it would be burned into his long-term memory forever, no matter how drunk he was. He told him about running and being shot at, about shooting back at them, and then the appearance of the Galactic Federation Capital Mothership in the sky, and then finally about the moment he'd resigned to the fact that he was going to lose everything. He started to choke up as he told Birdperson about Beth's car collision with the Federation ship and then the vitrification beam, but he kept himself together and drank more whiskey. He was a little surprised that he hadn't completely lost it this time; it was still so raw in his mind and it still very much hurt, but being completely smashed had somehow helped him to keep it together.

Birdperson was quiet through the entire explanation in the concern that saying anything would make him stop; he had been wanting Rick to talk about this since he had gotten here. He simply sat there when the other was done, the reason behind Rick's behavior suddenly making complete sense to him; he had needed to unload onto somebody and being drunk was the only way he could do it without inhibition.

“Don't... d-don't think it changes anything about me, BP. I'm still the same guy,” Rick's voice was suddenly firm, “all it means is that... is that w-when I get the portal gun back, I'm going to have to get back out there and f-fuck up their shit so hard, they become extinct.” He shook his head, deeply irritated all over again. “H-have to return the favor, y-you know?”

Birdperson nodded in understanding; of course Rick wanted revenge. He was sure that he would have wanted the same thing if he had been in similar circumstances.

“F-furthermore,” Rick continued, having decided that he wanted to launch straight into his next concern right away, “y-you... you can stop worrying about me, OK?”

Birdperson was silent again; he was sure that if he said anything, he would distract Rick from his thoughts.  
  
“I me... m-mean it, buddy...” Rick placed his right hand on the bed beside him to keep his balance, his attention on the door. “S-s-s... s-stop worrying about me. I'm sorry for... f-for the last couple of days.” He set the bottle of whiskey down beside him on the bed, his left hand still firmly grasped around the neck. “I-I've been a real jerk to you...”  
  
“It's fine, Rick.” Birdperson told him as he lightly shrugged his shoulders.  
  
“No-no, It's NOT fine!” Rick's voice was harsh in his reply. “You... y-you took us in when we had nothing. By us, I-I mean... my little buddy and me, Mmm-Morty.” He picked up the whiskey bottle and took another couple of swigs from it. “A-and what did I do? I-I was an asshole about it. I... I'm really sorry, Birdperson...”  
  
“You have already been forgiven, Rick.” Birdperson told him, his voice remaining calm. “To be honest with you, I am relieved that we are still friends in spite of everything. I did not want to take your guns away from you but the alternative would have been worse. You need to understand that your life is more valuable than you think it is.”  
  
“Y-yeah, I know,” Rick conceded rather quickly to that statement, “y-you were right to take them away. Y-y-you were just looking out for me...” He lowered his head, his voice breaking up again as he felt a deep sadness come over him. “God, w-why is everything so fucked up...?”  
  
Birdperson was silent again; he didn't have an answer to that.  
  
“Y-you don't have to worry about me...” Rick was becoming annoyed with himself; this was still very hard for him to talk about even though he was completely wasted. “I'm not... I'm not going to...” He shook his head as he fought through his own desire to shut down, “I-I'm not going to kill myself i-if that's what you're worried about. I just...” He went quiet again.

“You just what, Rick?” Birdperson hadn't wanted to say anything, but noticed he was stalling and wanted him to finish it.

“I just... needed you to know that.” Rick leaned heavily to his right side, promptly falling off the side of the bed, his limbs splaying out around him. He didn't even feel it and casually raised the whiskey bottle up keep it from spilling. “I-I'm not OK. B-but know that I'm not going to do anything. N-not going to happen... I have too much shit to do, Morty needs s-somebody to take care of him, and then there's b-bureaucra-UUUURPts to blow up. So s-stop worrying about it.” He looked up at the ceiling, but quickly decided it was easier to stay down than risk getting up again; the room was spinning and he was starting to feel quite nauseated. He knew he had completely overdone it, but he still didn't care.  
  
“I am glad to hear it, Rick.” Birdperson told him. “You need to take care of yourself and be aware of the fact that your situation is only temporary. It is not like you to resort to a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”  
  
“D-doesn't matter what I do f-from here out, anyway...” Rick lifted his arm up, raising the whiskey bottle up to slosh it around, his eyes having trouble tracking the contents. “I-I'm a dead man.”  
  
“What do you mean, Rick?” Birdperson was a little confused; that statement had come from nowhere.  
  
“Shit's still after me... p-probably always will be. Everyone wants a piece of Rick Sanchez, intergalactic terrorist, d-destroyer of worlds. I-I know that's what the people of B-Bird World call me... fucking stupid title.” Rick set the whiskey bottle on the floor next to his head. “Y-you're gonna have to watch my back, b-because otherwise shit's going to kill me...” His stomach made a sudden spasm of protest, and he made a harsh, involuntary retching sound. He swallowed hard, managing to keep it down.  
  
“What is chasing after you, Rick?” Birdperson peered down at him. “And if you are going to purge, please consider taking yourself to the bathroom as soon as you can.”  
  
“I-I'm fine.” Rick answered quickly, dismissing it entirely. “Just... just warning you in advance.” He looked back up at Birdperson, a deep scowl coming over his face, still incredibly bitter about being deprived of his guns in spite of his apology. “Y-you took my stuff away, so now I can't shoot back at... at anything trying to kill me. Y-you... y-you're going to have to do it for me...”  
  
“Is something else coming for you, Rick?” Birdperson seemed even more confused; that was a rarity for him. It sounded like important information though, so he pushed it. “What is it?”  
  
“F-feds, probably. Gromflomites, other versions of m-myself. E-everything else...” Rick's voice was quiet as he listed them all out. “D-doesn't matter what I do, shit's going to come after me and try to k-kill me. I-I need you to... if something happens to me, y-you'll take care of Mmm-Morty for me, right?”  
  
Birdperson stared back at the spiky-haired man; the information he was hearing was definitely cause for concern and if Rick was saying it, it must have been true. He could think of no reason to doubt his best friend's words.  
  
Rick scowled at Birdperson's silence, not liking it at all. He looked up at him, glaring. “P-promise me. W-without me, Mm-Morty has no hope. He's j-just a scared little kid and without me h-he doesn't have anything... poor little bastard...” His voice momentarily choked up; thinking about that really did hurt him no matter how drunk he was.  
  
“This threat will come to Bird World, yes?” Birdperson asked suddenly. While he did care about Morty's future, the concern of his home world being at risk was more important to him in the moment. “Is it going to harm the entire planet or just you, Rick? I need to know the answer to this so we can prepare for it accordingly.”  
  
“I... I don't even know...” Rick placed a hand on his forehead in the attempt to keep his emotions contained. The whole world was spinning faster than it had before. “J-just keep an eye out for shit... keep a gun on y-you at all times and be ready to s-shoot anything that's...” He sat up rather suddenly, his stomach protesting once again. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep it down.  
  
“Rick, take yourself to the bathroom.” Birdperson's tone was calm, though he wasn't happy with what he was hearing now.  
  
Rick finally decided that Birdperson's suggestion was a good one. He attempted to get to his feet again, only to stumble over and hit the floor once again. The bottom of the whiskey bottle smashed open as it hit the ground and the contents promptly spilled across the wooden floor. “Ah shit, n-not my good stuff!” He reached out with a hand, grabbing at the glass fragments and the puddle, even though he knew it was completely futile to bother trying to save it.  
  
“I will get you some more.” Birdperson told him quickly, he was sure he had something around that would keep Rick happy. He moved to his feet and reached down, grabbing Rick's arm so he could haul him to his feet. “Go to the bathroom. Then go back to bed.”  
  
“I'm... I'm so sorry I've been a dick to you, Birdperson...” Rick lowered his head as he was pulled back onto his feet. “S-so... y-you're still my friend? We're... w-we're cool again, right?”  
  
“Yes, Rick. You are still my friend, and you always will be no matter what happens.” Birdperson told him, his voice still very flat. “It does not matter how you behaved towards me during the last couple of days and it would take a lot more than that for our friendship to end. But if you could, please avoid behaving that way in the future. It is not entirely pleasant to be on the receiving end of it.”  
  
“S-sorry...” Rick didn't bother looking up. He stared down at his feet, and then the broken whiskey bottle on the floor. That strong feeling of regret was back all over again, and worse, now he didn't even have anything to drink. “Th-thanks, BP...”

“Do you need assistance in walking down the hallway?” Birdperson asked him.

“N-no...” Rick clumsily pulled his arm away, needing a moment to steady himself on his feet. He drunkenly staggered out of the room, his shoulder heavily hitting the wall once he was out in the hallway. His stomach gave an abrupt heave and he threw up on the floor in front of him. He simply stepped over the mess and made the slow uncoordinated stumbling walk into the living room. He decided the couch was far enough and collapsed down onto it, remembering to lie on his side in case he threw up again in his sleep; he didn't want to choke to death.  
  
Birdperson shook his head as he heard the sound, though it didn't bother him that much; it was a small price to pay for what had just happened. Rick had told him everything and apologized to boot; it must have been very hard for him to do that. He very much appreciated it and respected Rick all the more for it. However, he couldn't deny the fact that he was concerned over his best friend's safety now; if what he said was indeed true, then he would need to keep a vigilant watch.  
  
It didn't matter if his friend or his home planet was in trouble as both were equally important to him. He picked up a couple of spare woven blankets that he kept in the cupboard beside his bed and stepped out of the bedroom, being careful to avoid the mess in the hallway. Once in the living room, he tossed them over Rick, covering him up with them.  
  
“Get some sleep. We can discuss the situation again in the morning.” Birdperson told him, his voice quiet. “If you have any further details, I would like to hear them when you are able to do so.”  
  
Rick made a pathetic groan in response. He had heard Birdperson's words, but he was no longer capable of forming a useful response.  
  
Birdperson let him go, though he couldn't help but wonder why trouble always somehow seemed to find him; maybe he would never know.

 


	8. The Full Morty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter read and tidied by the lovely Unlvcrjchick over on Tumblr. Thank you again! 
> 
> Enjoy! I should get back to posting a new one every week. As always, ask/follow me over on Tumblr @RickAndMortyByKat !
> 
> Thank you!   
> -K

 

\----------------------------------  
  


**Chapter 8 – The Full Morty**

**  
**November 22nd, 7:15am Local Time, 2001  
**Birdperson's Tree House  
** **Bird World, Dimension Unknown** **  
****  
**  
\----------------------------------  
  
He was quite warm and comfortable in the position he had been sleeping in. Feelings of hunger had started to come over him, but it wasn't something that bothered him just yet. He was content to lie there in the peaceful quiet of the room as he began to gather his sleepy baby thoughts.  
  
Morty was only 17 months old and his motivations were still relatively simple; eat, sleep, poop, cry when something hurt, and calm when somebody who smelled familiar was cuddling him. He was at a critical developmental age where he was grasping the beginning concepts of language; he had discovered that making noises and calling out sound-names would very quickly get people's attention. Morty didn't have a name for himself just yet; his brain was only just starting to operate with words. His thoughts were still dominated by emotions, feelings, and a pictorial memory that his mind almost constantly updated, thousands of brand new neural connections being made every day as he learned about the world around him.  
  
His favorite people were three different adults; all of them smelled unique and were very recognizable by sight. The first called herself 'mom', and then there was another that wasn't quite mom, but still very good for comfort, even if he was a little unsure of himself.  
  
The third was completely unlike the other two; he was loud, seemed to like yelling and burping a lot, and always seemed to smell spicy, though the youngster would one day learn that this was the aroma of scotch whiskey. His wild spiky hair was always incredibly fun to pull on and Morty found that he could get away with it more often than not. He had a word for himself, too – 'Rick'. Morty knew the sound quite well, but still wasn't particularly good at pronouncing it yet. He was very keen to learn it though, because he was sure once he got the whole word down, Rick would surely pay more attention to him.

The young boy had no idea why the spiky-haired person who called himself 'Rick' was such a predominant fixture in his life now, but it didn't really bother him; he always seemed to be close by and was quick to comfort him when he made enough noise to demand his attention. Sometimes Morty wondered where his mother was, but as long as the one who called himself 'Rick' was close by, he didn't seem to mind too much. Sometimes he missed his mother and found himself thinking about her smell and her face, but he felt exactly the same way about 'Rick' when he was taken away from the tree house. He was willing to cling onto any familiar person he could get right now.

In more recent times, Morty had refused to let Rick out of his sight; the unfamiliarity of the world around him was incredibly scary, and he was the only steady fixture that he knew of anymore. One day everything had been completely normal, but then there was noise, noise, too much traumatizing noise, fire, then explosions, and then quiet; he couldn't remember much because he had just screamed through it all, wanting it to stop. It had since gone away, but he still wouldn't let Rick go anywhere without him just because remembering it all still frightened him. He couldn't quite comprehend why he needed Rick's presence so much; he only knew that his smell and closeness brought comfort and made everything so much more bearable.  
  
Morty rolled over and kicked a foot out, half expecting to bump it into the sleeping lump of a grandfather that was normally present whenever they were in this spot. However, he soon discovered that the rest of the space was cold and absent and didn't like this at all; he simply couldn't understand why Rick wasn't there and it made him incredibly upset. He sat up and began to cry about it, feeling very insecure with the fact that he was all by himself. He didn't want to be alone; the thought absolutely terrified him. He cried even louder in his misery, tears streaming down his little face.

The loud sound soon attracted somebody, though it wasn't who he wanted at all. There was now a feathery person at the doorway, staring at him. Morty got to his feet and made a sharp noise of alarm as the bird person came into the room; he didn't want to have anything to do with him. Although he vaguely recognized who the stranger was, he wasn't Rick; he wanted him and only him.  
  
Morty continued his loud, teary-eyed crying as he hopped off the roll-away cot and made a break for the door, afraid and incredibly insecure without somebody he trusted well enough to keep him safe. The young boy only made it about three or four steps; he was still terrible at running and tripped straight over his own feet. The abrupt contact with the floor had only made it worse and his upset noises were escalated straight to full blown screaming at the top of his lungs.

Birdperson stood over Morty, partly confused, partly bewildered. He was still getting used to the presence of humans in his house and he found them to be very strange creatures indeed; Rick was at least understandable because he could communicate and express himself, even if he was terrible at it. However, Morty was completely beyond his level of understanding; he had no idea why the tiny human found reason to cry and yell about so much, but the sound was loud enough to hurt his ears.  
  
Birdperson decided right then and there that enough was enough; Rick was still asleep on the couch in the next room over and he didn't particularly want him to wake up just yet, as he knew he was going to have a terrible hangover, and didn't want to deal with it until he needed to.

The bird-man simply moved across the room to pick the little boy up and hold him at arm's length. His attention was drawn to the room around him, remembering that Rick usually did something with him as soon as he woke up, though he couldn't quite remember what it was. In another moment, Birdperson had decided that this was outside his area of expertise and carried the screaming child out of the room. His pace quickened as he headed through the living room, wanting to minimize the amount of noise that Rick would be exposed to as he exited the tree house via the front door; he had to deal with this immediately.

 

\-------------------------------  
  
  
Gresharak had already appeared at the doorway to her own tree house; she had heard the sound already and just stood there, listening. She was not in the least bit surprised as she saw Birdperson fly across the distance to her tree house and she stepped out onto the landing, watching the new arrivals with intense curiosity; she already wanted to know the reason for the sound and why they were here.

Birdperson landed on the wooden deck with an abrupt thud, Morty secure in his arms. He immediately turned his attention towards the female and offered the young child out for her to take. “I do not understand the reason for this noise. Please find a way to deal with it in an appropriate and swift manner.”

“There is always a reason for it,” Gresharak's explanation was a little hurried as she reached out to take Morty from Birdperson, “sometimes it is just a simple one.” She began to rock Morty in her arms. “Sometimes it could be just a pain, or perhaps something does not feel right. This noise is relatively familiar in pitch and I recognize it because he has made it every time you have brought him to me. It is the noise he makes when he pines to be back where he is most happy.”  
  
“Thank you for dealing with this again,” Birdperson told her, “you may need to take him into your care for the entire day. We shall see.”  
  
Gresharak stared at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and unhappiness. “That does not bode well for me; he is impossibly difficult to calm when he is like this. However, I am almost certain that I know why you are here... the one you call 'Rick' is incapacitated again, yes? What happened this time?” She shook her head, pausing for only a moment before speaking again. “For somebody who appears to be so healthy, at least physically, he does find himself in a lot of strife.”  
  
“Yes, trouble always seems to find him.” Birdperson nodded his head, knowing that statement carried far more weight to it than he was willing to let on. “Trouble always finds those who assist the cause of freedom. We are never safe and some of us are still running. However, this has nothing to do with that. This time the cause of his downfall was entirely... self-inflicted.”  
  
“Self-inflicted?” All of the feathers on Gresharak's neck bristled in one movement. “Please tell me that does not mean what I think it means...” She had stopped patting Morty on the back and stared back at her neighbor, horrified, wanting an answer immediately.  
  
“No, he is quite safe, do not worry about that.” Birdperson quickly raised a hand and waved it in a dismissive gesture. “However, I am sure there is no way to word this without it sounding like irresponsible conduct on Rick's behalf.”  
  
As Gresharak narrowed her eyes, her feather comb raised high above her head as her expression shifted towards suspicion. “What happened to him?” She resumed patting Morty on the back and although he was quiet again, she didn't seem to notice.

Birdperson remained silent; no matter how he thought about it, there wasn't really a way he could make it sound like Rick getting completely drunk was a positive thing. There was certainly no way he was about to speak ill of his best friend either, not after what he had done to himself in order to apologize.

Gresharak took one more look at Birdperson and cradled Morty close to her chest as she turned on her heels and launched herself high into the air.  
  
As Birdperson watched her go, he regretted his decision to stay silent. He shook his head and took off to follow; he knew he would be needed before the situation could get out of hand.

 

\-----------------------------

 

It only took the bird mother a moment to fly the distance across the tree tops back to Birdperson's house. As she hurriedly forced the front door open, an incredibly unimpressed expression came over her features; she wanted to know exactly what this 'irresponsible thing' was and fully intended to find out for herself.

“What is going on?” Gresharak called out as she stepped into the living room. “Where are you?” Her question was answered as soon as she had spoken it, and her eyes fell onto Birdperson's couch and the lump of blankets lying across the cushions. She moved over in three angry steps and her voice changed to the exact pitch and tone she would have used if her own children were in trouble. “Get up! You have a young child here who needs you to be a parent. You also have some explaining to do!”

The loud noise had woken Rick up almost immediately. He propped himself up on his elbows and hugged the blankets around himself as he glared up at her, bleary-eyed. He already had a skull-splitting headache and the amount of light in the room was seriously hurting his eyes. “Volume...” his voice was hoarse and scratchy from his night of drinking, “...down.” He blinked uncomfortably and pulled the blanket over his head in an attempt to block out some of the light. “C-can you just... fuck off for a couple of hours? That would be great...” He lay back down on his side with his back facing her now, not caring in the slightest that she was still there.

Gresharak moved to stand in the space directly in front of the lump now, and stared down at it, her feathers bristling. She could immediately detect the air of liquor still surrounding the other and she felt her anger rising. “So this is what has you incapacitated? You want me to take care of your child because you made yourself drunk?”  
  
“I... I-I don't recall asking you to do that...” Rick's muffled reply came out from under the blankets. “Keep your voice down, s-stop with the bullshit already...”  
  
As Birdperson moved back inside the house, he was completely torn; he wanted Rick to take time out and recover but he also knew that ushering the female out of his house would cause her to become even more riled up than she already was. He knew that Rick was more than capable of handling himself and pushing others away if he wanted, so he let them be and headed into the kitchen to begin mixing up something that would take the edge off Rick's hangover. If he got angry and blew up again, at least it wouldn't be on him this time.

“Very well, Rick.” Gresharak made a point of harshly saying the name in her angry, motherly tone. “Get up and look at me when I'm talking to you. The very least you could do is be respectful when you are having a conversation with somebody.”  
  
“No offense, woman,” Rick paused for a moment to yawn, “b-but I don't answer to you. Again, can you keep the volume down? Holy shit, y-you're too loud...” He finally sat up this time, figuring he wasn't going to get back to sleep anytime soon. He pulled the blankets back around himself and over his head, wearing them around his face like a hood. “You're the one who wants to have the conversation, not me.” He lowered his head and furrowed his brows in pain; his eyes hurt and his headache was near unbearable. He had always been somebody who could tolerate a considerable amount of pain, but this was particularly bad, even for him.  
  
“You know, under normal circumstances I would feel sorry for you. But you deserve exactly what you are getting right now.” Gresharak told him sternly as she held onto Morty firmly with one hand, the other on her hip. “You should be ashamed of your conduct. You need a serious talking to!”

“Oh my god...” Rick groaned as he placed a hand on his forehead; his head was pounding with each heartbeat. Of all the times he regretted drinking too much, this certainly wasn't going to be one of them. “You have no idea what the reasoning behind it was, s-so just... try not to judge, OK? S-stop... stop being such a bitch.”

Morty was listening to the exchange, though he remained quiet. Although he was very happy to finally see Rick, he couldn't comprehend why he was so grumpy. He also looked like he was hurt, which Morty didn't like at all. He pulled at a couple of the bird woman's feathers as he leaned against her, entirely uncertain about himself and torn; he wanted to be with his grandfather, but he also didn't right now.

Birdperson finished what he was doing quickly; he had been listening to the whole conversation and didn't want it to degrade further. He simply moved over to the couch with a cup in hand and held it out for the other to take, completely silent.

Without saying a word, Rick reached out to take the cup and drank the entire contents in one go. His only response was a loud guttural burp as he handed the cup back to Birdperson.

“What was that?” Gresharak's eyebrows were raised as she watched the curious exchange.  
  
“Powdered, salicylic willow bark and concentrated ilex-leaf extract,” Birdperson answered with a small shrug of his shoulders, “dissolved into ordinary warm water.”  
  
“A-and if there was still a planet Earth, y-you could patent that shit and make millions fro-URRRPPPm it.” Rick pulled the blankets off himself and dropped them on the cushion beside him, as he was done with them for the time being. “Bitter as hell, b-but it does the job.”  
  
“Rick, you know I have never been interested in the pursuit of making money.” Birdperson looked down at him, his face completely expressionless. “It is a hollow endeavor that only ends in misery. It also results in having friends that are not genuine.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, whatever...” Rick's reply was a tired grumble; all he wanted was for the pain to go away. “Get me another one of those, I-I'm gonna need it.” He leaned back against the cushions behind him, his expression annoyed as he looked back at the bird mother. “Why are you still here?”  
  
Gresharak puffed out all the feathers on her upper body, still furious with his current attitude. “Because you still need a serious talking to!” She held out Morty as if emphasizing her next point. “You need to take care of this little boy, he is entirely dependent on you! If you do not understand that, then you need some serious lessons in parental responsibility.”  
  
Rick shrugged his shoulders, not bothering to move. “Look, hold onto him for a while, i-if he's happy, then let him be. I already know what's going to happen here, so...” He glanced off to the side, thinking hard; he already knew she wasn't going to leave him alone until she'd spoken her mind, so he was pondering how to use it to his advantage. “I still need more time before I launch back into shit today, and you're probably not going to go away and shut up, so... if you can do your thing at a reasonable volume, I'll.. I'll listen to whatever you have to say.”  
  
“Really?” Gresharak's anger seemed to fade as confusion set in; she simply couldn't comprehend why he would so readily accept being criticized.  
  
“One condition, though...” Rick's brows suddenly furrowed in pain and he squeezed his eyes shut; he knew the stuff Birdperson had given him would take time to work and his head was still pounding. “Take care of the kid until I-I'm a little more useful, huh? If... if you can do that, I'll let you say whatever you want.”

“All right. Done.” Gresharak nodded in response, willing to take whatever she could get. “Where can I find your little boy's things? If I'm going to take care of him, I need to know where they are.”

“In t-the... room down the hallway.” Rick leaned forward, seeming to be having difficulty articulating his thoughts as he buried his face in his hands. “There's... there's a thing with things in it in the middle of the floor,” he paused, scowling, “don't touch anything on the desk, and d-don't... mess up my stuff.”  
  
Gresharak turned away and headed off down the hallway with Morty.

Birdperson watched her go and moved back into the living room, carrying another cup with him. As he sat down beside Rick, he nudged him in the shoulder and offered it back to him. “Sit up. You will have to stir this one as it was made in haste. This is as much as I can give you for the time being. Consuming any more in such a short amount of time would cause a very unpleasant overdose. ”

Rick made a soft laugh in spite of how he was feeling. “As if I ever cared about things like that... unpleasant overdose? What the hell do you think is wrong with me right now? D-do you even know who I am, BP?” As he lifted his head, he smirked back at the other, then reached out to take the cup. He swirled the contents around as he held onto it with both hands, watching the cloudy-white powder agitate as it moved through the water, forming a suspension. “Thanks for doing this for me.”  
  
“Anytime, Rick.” Birdperson's response was calm, and he was pleased that any animosity that existed between them before was well and truly gone.  
  
Rick's eyes stayed on the contents of the cup as he sat there in the silence, simply content to be in Birdperson's company. Despite how bad his hangover was, he felt strangely peaceful and he knew he had made the right decision. The heavy weight on his shoulders felt like it had been lifted, and the feelings of guilt were completely gone for the time being. Although he was still bitter about having his weapons taken away, he'd finally been able to accept that it had happened. The peace didn't last long however, and he looked up towards the hallway as he heard Morty screaming again.  
  
“Jesus, Morty... s-shut up, will you?” He muttered aloud, scowling in irritation. “I should probably get that...”  
  
“Let Gresharak deal with him for the time being, Rick,” Birdperson told him, “she is a competent mother and knows what she is doing. Finish your medicine and give it time to be absorbed into your system.”

Rick shrugged, then raised the cup to his mouth, swallowing the entire contents in a few mouthfuls. “Bleghh...” He screwed his face up in protest, then set the cup back down on the coffee table. “One of these days, y-you might actually be successful in mixing u-UURRRRPp something that doesn't taste like garbage. Or brake fluid... o-or garbage mixed with brake fluid.”

“I could have added pine sugar to it to make it more palatable.” Birdperson thought aloud as he turned his attention back towards the kitchen. “Do note that the key words in that sentence were 'could have'. You see, I could have, if you did not eat it all yesterday.”

“Oh shut up, BP.” Rick smirked back at him. “That shit was good, and you know it! I would totally do it again. In fact, go get more, huh?”

Gresharak walked back into the living room, carrying one very-grumpy Morty with her. She moved to stand in front of the couch again, seeming flustered. “Somebody decided to put up a fight today, it seems,” she held onto the little boy despite the fact she was being assaulted by his little, flailing arms, “he didn't want to wear pants.”

Rick's brow was completely flat as his eyes tracked her back into the room, the tiniest smirk at the edge of his mouth as he watched them, amused with Morty's behavior. “Hah. T-that's completely normal. You're not telling me anything I don't already know.”

Gresharak turned her attention towards Birdperson. “I must ask something very important of you. Forgive me for asking you to leave; this is your own house and I should not be telling you what to do in it. However, your friend and I need to have a very serious talk together. He needs to understand how to be a better parental figure. You understand, yes?”

Birdperson gave Rick a sideways glance, hesitant, trying to gauge his reaction. He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave them alone together, especially knowing how quickly the spiky-haired male could blow up if only wound up enough.  
  
Rick shrugged back at him. “I already told her she could, BP. A deal's a deal, y'know? And I'm a man of my word, s-so,” he scowled back at her, “have at it. You want to tell me how terrible of a job I'm doing? So be it.”  
  
Birdperson moved to his feet, though he couldn't help but feel a little bit surprised. He had known Rick well for many years; the man constantly reminded everyone that he didn't like being told what to do and now he seemed willing to take it from somebody he barely knew. It didn't make sense. Still, he nodded his head, respecting Rick's wishes as he picked up the cup, retreating to the kitchen, and then to the master nest-room in the tree house.  
  
“Well let's get this over with already.” Rick huffed in annoyance. Although he wanted to get up and go back to work, the pain behind his eyes was still too strong for him to do anything useful. He knew he would just have to sit it out patiently for the time being.  
  
Gresharak sat down on the couch next to Rick, her weight sinking heavily into the cushions. She set Morty down in his lap and her expression softened almost right away; she knew that if such a serious topic was to be brought up and discussed, it would need to be done so with kindness and understanding.  
  
Rick picked Morty up and scooted one whole cushion away; she had been too close for him to be comfortable with it. Both of his arms circled Morty's chest, and he drew the little boy in for a hug as he looked down at him. “Hey there, little buddy. So you're gonna sit with me while the mean bird woman tells Grandpa Rick what a shitty person he's being, y-yeah?”  
  
Morty made a soft, happy noise in response to Rick's words; he had no idea what he was saying, but his tone was friendly and he was simply happy to be back with him. He leaned against him and gently batted his hands across Rick's arm, soothed by his presence.

Gresharak sighed at Rick's words. “It is not a joke. You should not make light of the situation, your behavior is very concerning. First and foremost: your language. Your hatchling does not need to hear those words ever, let alone from his primary caregiver. You should be more thoughtful about what you say around him.”  
  
“Y-you want me to think about that? Seriously, woman? Do you even know who I am?” Rick raised an eyebrow at her, then returned his attention to Morty, tapping him on the shoulder. “Hey. Hey little buddy, look at me. C-can you say 'fuck'?”  
  
Morty stared back at Rick, understanding enough of what he was saying to make sense of it. He paid particularly close attention to Rick's mouth as he pronounced the word, because he wanted to learn it and make him happy. “F-ff-fuh.”  
  
“Heh heh heh!” Rick bared his teeth in a devilishly wicked grin as he glanced back up the bird mother. “Y-yeah there you go, I thought about it. Next.”

Morty made a soft happy noise, deeming his attempt a success. “Fff-fuh!”

“H-hey, that's actually pretty good.” Rick's attention was suddenly back on Morty – that vocalization had taken him by surprise. “Good work, little buddy.” He seemed genuinely pleased as he ran a hand through the little boy's soft hair, ruffling it up. It was the most complete word he had ever heard Morty make and he was legitimately proud of him. “We'll have to spend s-some more time talking later, huh?”  
  
Gresharak stared at the two, absolutely horrified with the exchange. “Oh my, why are you teaching him that? You are not even going to try to take this seriously, are you?”  
  
Rick waved a hand as if to dismiss it. “Oh relax, lady. Don't get me wrong, I said I'd listen to what you have to say and I was serious about that... taking all of it into consideration, though? That's different. Depends what you say, doesn't it?” He shrugged. “In all seriousness, h-have at it. You think you can make me a better parent? Off you go then.”

Gresharak's expression shifted to unhappy as she sighed. “I will only continue this if you take it seriously. I do not want to waste my breath and I am not even going to say it for your benefit, Rick. You need to do it for your little one's sake. Do you understand that?”

Rick shrugged at her a second time. “You're the one who started it. So what's next on the agenda?”

“I understand that things are difficult right now.” Gresharak continued, her voice returning to a gentle tone; she knew she needed to stay calm and compassionate if she was ever going to get him to listen properly. “You are having trouble coping and resorting to the assistance of fermented products seems like an easy way out. But it is not. You cannot care for your little one when you are so inebriated that you cannot even care for yourself.”  
  
“Hah! You're worried about that?” Rick raised both of his eyebrows this time; she really had no idea. “Look, all I'll tell you is this... it's been dealt with. Everything I do is for a pretty damn good reason, including that. I got shit squared away with BP last night, no need to worry about that any more. I'll give you some credit though, you're observant and you're worried about Morty's safety, and by association, me. I-I get that. But shit happened last night, i-it's done with.”

“So... you're feeling better?” Gresharak stared at him. “You do not want to harm yourself?”

“Phh, NO!” Rick scowled. “Did Birdperson tell you that? I suppose he must have, t-there's no other way you could have known,” he narrowed his eyes suddenly, “fucking tattle-tale motherfucker!”

“He was worried about you. You have a great friend, Rick. That is the main reason why he sent me out to find you yesterday,” Gresharak told him, “do not take somebody like that for granted.”

“Y-yeah no shit, lady.” Rick picked Morty up in his arms as he moved to his feet; he knew she was trying to pick his brains and get him to open up to her, but he wasn't going to have a bar of it. He was feeling more awake and the pounding inside his head was becoming more tolerable, which meant that the medicine was starting to do what it needed to. With this observation noted, he decided that he was probably good enough to go back to work. “S-so do you have more stuff to tell me, or what? Because if you want to continue talking, you can hang around the table in my room.” He figured that he could take advantage of her presence and use her to distract Morty. He wasted no time moving back towards the spare nest room, not bothering to wait for her.

Gresharak simply moved to her feet and followed, taking the invitation as a positive sign. Once in the room, her attention was on the walls. Although she'd already been in the room a little while ago, she didn't have the time to take it in because she had been tending to Morty's needs. As her eyes attentively looked across the designs, she knew that she was looking at something that had been produced by a keenly intelligent mind. She recognized some of them at once, and although she had known who Rick was from Birdperson's stories, actually seeing the scientist's years of work in front of her was fascinating. She began to slowly pace around the room, her eyes following the pins and the lines of string between them; she knew it was all connected somehow but it was all way beyond her level of expertise.

“You like them?” Rick watched her in his peripheral vision as he sat back down at the desk. “They're old as shit now, I-I actually forgot to tear them down.” He deposited Morty into his lap and picked up his soldering gun, immediately getting back to work. “If you wanna do that for me, feel free. They need to go in the trash anyway...” As he talked, he ionized a couple of resistor wire legs onto the circuit board in front of him, and then carefully clipped the excess wire off with a pair of pliers. His eyes were still hurting, but he didn't mind as long as he could focus on what he was doing.  
  
“Why would you want to throw such intricate work away?” Gresharak stopped in front of one of the older blueprints as it caught her attention. It was quite faded and the edges of the paper had curled over in the many years it had been stuck to the wall. “I recognize this weapon design. My spirit mate owns several of them... I think they are called 'Ballzinators'? He still uses them in his patrols around Bird World.”

“Hah, oh them? Wow, those are fucking garbage. Throw them away, I-I'll design you something better.” Rick's reply was gruff. “That was one of my first, any tired hack could design better shit than that.” He frowned suddenly as Morty made a grab for his soldering gun and he pulled it away. “That's not for you, little buddy. Don't touch it, you'll burn your hands off.”  
  
“I will leave them there for you, Rick. You should not throw away your past, it is a record of how you grew into the person you have become.” Gresharak turned around, then decided to sit down on the edge of Rick's roll-away cot, her weight sinking heavily into it. “You seem like a very busy and intelligent man. How are you able to balance your work and a small child at the same time? Are you finding it hard?”  
  
Rick gave a small shrug of his shoulders, irritated at the fact she was still persisting at getting him to talk. “It's working out so far.”  
  
Morty made a loud noise in declaration of his boredom. He wanted to play and Rick wasn't paying attention to him; he had been before and he couldn't figure out why it wasn't happening now. The little boy sat up and began to whack his grandfather's outstretched arms while he worked, making loud noises at him in an attempt to turn his focus back towards him; surely that would work.  
  
“Stop doing that, Morty!” Rick gritted his teeth; his headache was still bothering him and he wasn't in a good mood. “I'm getting real tired of your shit...” He dropped his soldering gun on the desk and picked Morty up, returning him to the floor. “Go annoy someone else.”  
  
Morty made a loud frustrated noise and began to growl; he hadn't wanted to be put down. He began thumping the chair leg with his little hands in his frustration, hoping it would get Rick's attention again.  
  
“If you are having trouble coping, there are many things you can do about it.” Gresharak offered, her attention on Morty for the time being, finding his behavior fairly typical to watch. “Sometimes just taking the time out to spend time with your little one can tire him out. You might find that you will have more time to yourself if he is taking frequent naps.” She watched the two carefully, but didn't want to interfere. “Have you taken him to the hot springs yet? A nice long soak in the warm water always puts my babies to sleep.”  
  
“No.” Rick's reply was short and completely disinterested. He picked up the next component and began soldering it onto the circuit board, completely ignoring what was happening to his chair. He felt stubborn and defiant; the pain behind his eyes wasn't going away as fast as he wanted it to and Morty was being annoying as hell. He had decided that he would just fight through all of it and keep trying to work for as long as he could.

“You should consider it,” Gresharak told him, not seeming to notice his deteriorating mood, “I also have mint oil. He would respond well to a nice massage.”  
  
Morty grabbed at the tails of Rick's lab coat, having remembered that being fun back in the garage of his house. He held onto the fabric with both hands and began tugging on it, making small noises with each tug as he tried to regain his grandfather's attention. “Riiiii!” He yelled with particular firmness.  
  
“Fucking stop it, Morty!” Rick was growling now, the quality of his negative mood deteriorating even further. “I'm trying to work here!” He snatched up the edge of his coat and tucked it under his butt.

“Try to be more patient with him.” Gresharak's attention was on Rick's face, and she seemed worried at how quickly his mood was degrading. “He is too young to understand and he loves you. He wants you to spend more time with him. Every time I see you, you are either working hard on something or complaining about the fact that you need to finish it. Is there any way you would consider taking time out to spend time with your little boy? He is really insecure and needs to know you love him.”

“Not gonna happen,” Rick huffed, very clearly pissed off, “can't go out and play. Gotta get this shit finished...”  
  
Morty moved around the chair, remembering that Rick's CD player had been something that put him in a good mood. He reached out to grab the appliance cord and tugged on it with an outstretched hand, causing the player to slide backwards off the table. It smashed down on the floor beside him and the loud noise frightened him. He began to loudly whimper in response.  
  
Rick's eyes narrowed as far as they would go, his jaw tensed hard; he wanted to yell, but kept it contained. He remained seated at the desk, completely silent as he kept his attention glued to soldering another component down onto the board. Distracting himself with work usually kept him calm, but it simply wasn't doing a good enough good job right now; he was furious and his ability to tolerate the situation was fraying fast.  
  
“He needs your undivided attention, not just part of it.” Gresharak continued her explanation, her tone remaining gentle as if it could help somehow. “Sometimes there is not really a way to balance the two. There are times when you will need to put down what you are doing and let him know that he has your attention,” she watched the appliance crash down onto the floor, though remained where she was, “such as right now.”  
  
“Don't... d-don't tell me what to do!” Rick sat there for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose; it was taking every ounce of will to not completely lose it. “L-look, it's fine, that's all you need to know.” He slammed a fist down on the table in his frustration and accidentally knocked several components aside, as well as the circuit board he had just been working on. He watched it bounce off the table in the rough movement and reached out for it as it clattered onto the floor.

Unfortunately for him, Morty was faster; he sprang ahead and beat his grandfather straight to it. He wasted no time snatching it up and popped it straight into his mouth, drooling heavily on it. He concluded that if Rick found it so fun, maybe he would, too.  
  
When Rick witnessed what was happening to his circuit board, his ability to contain himself had completely crumbled beyond the point of no return. “What the FUCK did I just say to you!?” He reached down and aggressively snatched it out of the little boy's mouth. “That's NOT for you! Why can't you just keep your goddamn mouth shut for once in your miserable little life so I can finish this shit and get us out of here?! Can't you see I'm trying to do this for you? Why do you feel the need to be so fucking annoying all of a sudden!?”  
  
Morty stared back up at Rick and he was frozen on the spot, paralyzed with fear. His lower lip began to quiver and his mood instantly deteriorated, but he dared not make noise while he was being yelled at.  
  
Rick swung around in the chair and took a moment to inspect the damage, repulsed at the fact there was a heavy coat of baby slobber all over his work. He threw the circuit board across the table in his anger and glared back down at the little boy. “That's fucking disgusting! Y-you got your germs all over it! You probably just ruined it, too, you little shit! D-do you know how much time that's going to cost me!?”  
  
Morty finally broke down in tears and fearfully retreated, running to the safety of the weird feathered bird lady he only barely knew; she was far less scary right now. He bumped hard into her leg and began miserably wailing into the fabric of her clothing.  
  
“Wow.” Gresharak's voice was low and very unimpressed. She wasted no time picking Morty up and cradled him in her arms so she could begin calming him down again. “I genuinely have no idea what to say to you right now.”  
  
Rick simply sat there, staring ahead at the space on his work table as he listened to the noises reverberating off the walls of his room, his anger dissipating entirely. The loud, penetrating crying was doing nothing for his headache, but he no longer cared about that. He hadn't meant to snap, but he wasn't feeling well to begin with and his patience had been low since he had woken up. He placed both hands on the desk, lowering his head as he gave himself a minute to calm down; he felt terrible. The loud crying sounds were positively heartbreaking to listen to, and he knew that once again, his grandson was upset solely because of his bad temper. It hadn't felt good last time and he had told himself that he needed to prevent it from happening. And yet, here he was, repeating the same action all over again.  
  
Rick moved off the chair, his brows creased in concern as he looked down at the little boy in the bird woman's arms, feeling compelled to do something. “H-hey come on buddy, I didn't mean it like that.” He crouched down in front of them and reached out in an attempt to place a hand on Morty's head, but he was met with a loud defiant scream of resistance as the youngster tried to get away from him. “Come on, buddy... don't be like that, huh?” He withdrew his hand again and just stayed there, silently observing the little kid as a deep frown grew across his face.  
  
“Perhaps you should just give him some time,” Gresharak suggested as she continued to pat the little boy on the back, “sometimes they just need to cry it out.”  
  
Rick nodded once in acknowledgment and stood up again, moving out the doorway. Once he was in the hallway and out of sight, his shoulder hit the wall as he sank against it; he really hadn't meant to lose it like that, that was bad enough. But the look Morty had given him when he tried to get away from him felt even worse; he had outright rejected him. He shook his head and headed for the kitchen; he needed to rehydrate and give the medicine in his stomach more time to work.

He could still hear Morty's protests as he filled up a cup with cold water and leaned against the counter in heavy regret. The noise was fairly recognizable in pitch and tone; it was the same noise that Morty had made before they had arrived through the portal onto Bird World, when the entire world was in the process of being destroyed. Even though there were no words, he could pick up on the fact that it was full of insecurity and fear, and this time it was entirely directed at him.

“Fuck,” He hissed aloud to himself, “He's... h-he's really going for it there, huh?”  
  
He hung around the kitchen for a few more moments, reluctant to go back. When he realized that the noise wasn't going to quieten down, he returned to the doorway to his room and stood there, watching attentively. “H-hey...”  
  
Gresharak looked up at him, but said nothing.  
  
“Look, uh...” Rick rubbed the back of his head as he tried to conceal his mood with a scowl, “I need you to do me a real solid, bird lady... I can't pronounce your name. Can you just... take him away for a while?”  
  
Gresharak blinked at the suggestion, confused. “You are giving up?”  
  
“No.” Rick stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, glaring hard at the space on the floor in front of him. “He would probably benefit from spending time apart from me for a while. I did this, I can undo it later. But he has to calm down first, and that's not going to happen while I'm still around. This is my room, s-so... fuck off.” He raised his head again, glaring at her, his tone suddenly becoming resolute and authoritative. “Take him back to yours for a couple of hours. I'll come find you again when things have settled, and... and I'll make this right again.”  
  
Gresharak stood on her feet, still holding onto the little boy. “This is not a good way to go about this. You cannot just avoid the problem entirely.”  
  
Rick's left eyebrow twitched and he glared harder at her; anger was an easy way out and he knew it. “I-I don't really give a shit how you think I should handle it! Just let me deal with this my way, OK?” He realized how abrasive he was sounding as he spoke, but that was exactly what he wanted because he was actively trying to make her go away.

It seemed to work. The female bird mother simply shook her head at him as she passed by, walking down the hallway, carrying the crying child out of the tree house with her.

Rick stepped back into the room and slammed the door behind him. It didn't do anything for his mood, but damn it felt good to make noise. He sat back down at the desk and picked up the circuit board he had thrown, feeling concerned over the fact that it was more likely to have been damaged in the impact against the tabletop rather than being in the mouth of a small child.  
  
After checking it over, he discovered it was perfectly intact, albeit a little wet.  
  
Rick sighed aloud as he wiped it off on his lab-coat sleeve. “Fucking idiot...” He chastised himself. He realized he had gotten angry over something completely preventable and it didn't even matter much anyway. As long as he had the etching chemicals, he could make as many circuit boards as he wanted to; all it would cost him was time. As he dropped the circuit board back onto the table, he realized that he'd upset another person and worse, this time it was his own grandson; a little kid who was barely able to comprehend complex thoughts and feelings, let alone words.  
  
There would be no way of talking himself out of this one. He had no idea how to make amends with such a small child; he had never had to do anything so outrageous before. Morty barely understood anything he was talking about most of the time, so simply talking it out and apologizing in the same way he had done to Birdperson was out of the question.

His mind began to race with all kinds of questions; what exactly were babies motivated by? Hugs? He couldn't do that, Morty had wanted to get away from him and likely didn't even want to have anything to do with him for the time being. Candy? He didn't have any and he'd always been against the idea of bribing children to get them to do something. There wasn't even any interesting food in the box of baby supplies he could use, but that would have been stupid anyway. Morty wasn't solely motivated by food; he wasn't a dog. It wasn't going to be that simple.

Rick moved to his feet and grabbed up the backpack he had used yesterday during his trip outside and began loading it with supplies, intending to take off for the day. After making his way outside, he began to climb down the tree. He'd climbed up and down so many times over the years that his body was on autopilot as his mind began to ponder a way out of his predicament, though he had to admit that he currently couldn't think of one. As his feet touched the ground, he headed away from the tree house community at a fairly casual pace. He needed time to get away and time to think. 

He needed to stop doing this; it was just becoming repetitive, abusive behavior now. He needed to stop yelling and losing his temper at the people he actually gave a damn about.

 


	9. Do It For Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a giant fluffpile. It was originally published on Fanfiction dot net in Late July, 2016, but this version is MUCH tidier and beta-read by Unlvcrjchick over on Tumblr! Thank you again for your awesome work, aaaaa
> 
> Comment, Kudos, or critique me here or ask me anything over on Tumblr @Rickandmortybykat.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Your comments have been wonderful so far. :D  
> \- Kat

**** **Chapter 9 – Do It For Him**

  
  
Rick had already been on the ground a few hours by the time he would be interrupted again. The hangover medicine that Birdperson had given him had finally kicked in and so his mind was finally clear and pain-free, which allowed him to put himself back to task.

Several blueprints were scattered across the ground in the immediate area around the scientist, but he had since put them aside for a different project entirely. His main focus was now on the piece of wood in his hands as he dug a small whittling knife into it, delicately shaving pieces off the sides, carving the chunk into a very deliberate shape. The same process had already been carried out on two other pieces, but the third was going to be particularly special so it was being done with extra precision and care.

He didn't look up when he heard the flurry of wing flaps overhead.   
  
“Rick,” Birdperson said once he was on the ground; he'd made a point of making noise during the landing because he hadn't wanted to startle the other. The house had been far too quiet for his liking and he had been surprised to discover that Rick wasn't there at all. For somebody who started the day barely being able to function, he had gotten surprisingly far away. “There you are. I have been looking for you.”  
  
“Oh, hey, BP.” Rick shrugged at him, “Did you come all the way out here just to check on me? Phhh, what a waste of your time.”  
  
“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Birdperson launched into his thoughts right away, “if something is tracking you with intent to harm you, then it would be a wise idea to keep an aerial-eye lookout while you are away from the house.”  
  
“Oh, that...” Rick frowned; he had been so preoccupied with what he was doing and the fallout with his grandson that he had forgotten about it. “Don't worry about that, BP, you don't have to babysit me. I've already accepted it. If it comes for me, it comes, y'know? It's me they want, not anyone else here. If you're really serious about keeping an eye out, at least carry a big-ass weapon around. I did tell you that, right? Intimidate them a little, m-make them think you're gonna kick their ass.”  
  
“How are you feeling?” Birdperson ignored what he was saying; now that he knew his friend was safe, he was more concerned with his health.

“I'm fine now, your hell cocktail powder did the trick. Sure could do with another drink, though.” Rick smirked up at him as if demonstrating that he hadn't learned anything at all. “Hey look, I kinda wanted to be alone, but now that you're here, you can actually do something useful for me.” He picked up one of the wood carvings, along with a folded-up blueprint. “This is my design for a new plasma-containment bulb. Do you think you could take it to the glassmith for me? It needs to be fortified and damn-near unbreakable this time, I don't want to crush it again with my ass. If the glassmith wants to bitch about making something so complex, just remind them who I am and what I've done for this goddamned planet.” He smirked arrogantly, knowing full well that namedropping could probably do him a lot of favors if he actually pushed it. “And if they want payment, tell them that they can demand whatever price they want so long as the bulb is made first. Have to get the portal gun working before I go get money, right?” He held both items up, impatiently waving them around in the air.

“Are you sure?” Birdperson reached out to take them. He took a moment to examine the rounded shape of the carved wood and turned it over in his hands. “This seems to be something that you could easily create by yourself. Did you use this design for the last one? Surely you can just make it again.”

“I don't have any more time to waste on it.” Rick shrugged as he picked up his whittling knife again and resumed carving, flicking the knife across the wood-grain in quick successive strokes. “Did you know we've already been here five days?” Anger rose in his voice and he carved faster, sending wood shavings scattering across the rest of his blueprints. “That's five days of sitting on my ass, a-and two of those were wasted through puking our guts out! In two more days it will be a whole fucking week, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing!”

“You have done plenty in that space of time, Rick.” Birdperson told him. “Not all your achievements have to be measured by the quantity of your work.” He hoped Rick would get the intention behind his statement; he'd already seen a lot of personal growth in his friend within the short time he'd been stranded on Bird World and wanted him to acknowledge it. “It does not matter, that is not why I am here.” He opened a small leather satchel that had been attached to the side of his belt and removed the two items that had been in there; a water canteen and a clear bottle of suspicious-looking liquid. He carefully deposited both items on the ground next to the scientist and watched, hoping he would accept them. “These are for you.”  
  
“Oh?” Rick was immediately suspicious, but curiosity quickly overtook his mind. He set his work aside and picked up the bottle, only to cautiously eye off the contents. “What the hell is this?” He held it by the neck as he shook it up, his eyes watching the sediment swirl around inside. He wasn't at all impressed, and now that the drink was cloudy, it looked even less desirable than it had been at first sight.

Birdperson quietly observed Rick's disgust as he pondered how best to explain. “Seed wine,” he stated after a hesitant pause, “you did not have anything left to drink. I hope this is an adequate replacement until you are able to obtain something else.”

“I'm not really a wine drinker, BP. But thanks for thinking of me, I guess...” Rick continued to shake up the bottle, glaring at how dirty the liquid was inside. “What the hell did you do to distill it? It doesn't even look like it's been filtered.” He pulled the cork off and took a cautious sniff, immediately screwing up his face at the potently sour offensive smell that assaulted his nostrils. “Oh god! Is this even drinkable? I-it smells like a rancid fart!”  
  
Birdperson folded his arms. “Nobody drinks seed wine for the flavor or the smell, Rick.”  
  
“Yeah-yeah-yeah...” Rick grumpily dismissed the statement and took an experimental swig, only to immediately gag on the taste, utterly repulsed by it. “Bleaghh!” He spat the remainder out onto the ground beside him in his disgust; it was rare for him to reject anything alcoholic, but this was a new low, even for him. “Jesus, y-you bottled a liquid fart, Birdperson! Are you trying to kill me? Is this seriously the kind of crap you drink to get yourself wasted?!”

“Not me personally, Rick. However, I could probably locate some beer if you would find that more to your liking.” Birdperson idly tapped his chin with an index finger as he pondered alternatives. “I also know somebody who makes mead from pine sugar.”

Rick didn't seem content with either of those suggestions. He placed the cork back into the neck of the bottle and set it down on the ground beside him. “It'll have to do. It's... it's not going to kill me,” he picked up his wood carving and resumed where he had left off, “at least, I hope not...”  
  
“There is also a canteen of water,” Birdperson nudged it with his foot, pushing it a little closer towards the other, “keep yourself hydrated.”  
  
“You're not my mother,” Rick angrily muttered back at him, “d-don't tell me what to do...”

Birdperson shook his head; Rick was very much back to his old self again, that was for sure. He decided to sidestep the subject entirely, wanting to avoid any potential aggression from the other. “What are you working on right now?”

“Portal gun...” Rick mumbled in reply. He knew he sounded like a broken record by now, but at least he wasn't lying.  
  
“I see.” Birdperson nodded, immediately making note of the fact that while the shape of the wood carving did indeed look like one of his portal gun designs, it seemed to be too small somehow.   
  
Rick's next question seemed to come out of the blue. “Where can I find paint?”   
  
“Paint?” Birdperson had to blink at that; he couldn't see any conceivable reason why Rick would want such a thing. However, he knew better than to ask questions and casually pointed off into the distance. “There is a small workshop about fifteen miles south of our position. If you wish for me to take your design to the glassmith and to get it made today, I will need to travel there anyway.”  
  
“Great, kill two birds with... uhh...” Rick trailed off in the realization of what he was saying. “Y-yeah, sorry about that: insensitive idiom.” He quickly shook his head, getting his thoughts back on track. “Just get me some paint. I need...” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “All three primary-color pigments, along with black and white. I don't need terribly much, just enough to cover some, uh... gadgets with it.” His tone suddenly became harsh. “Make sure they're durable and non-toxic. The non-toxic part is r-really important.”  
  
Birdperson nodded in acknowledgment. “Do you need anything else?”  
  
“Scotch-whiskey if you've got it.” Rick muttered in annoyance and he was still very much sour over the fact he'd broken his last bottle; it had been an expensive brand and one of his favorites. “Or rum. Or vodka. Or sambuca. Anything that isn't fermented. prison-toilet juice, b-because that's basically what you've given me, Birdperson; a giant load of ass-farts in a bottle.” He knew he should probably be thankful, but he was still in a sour mood.  
  
“If I find a more suitable replacement in my travels, I will be sure to inform you as soon as I can.” Birdperson didn't wait for a reply. He extended his wings and took off with a single powerful down thrust of his wings, kicking up dust and plant debris in his wake, leaving the scientist to himself once again.

Rick watched him go, not seeming to care that his blueprints were scattered in the wind. He simply lowered his head and resumed what he was doing, knowing full well that although he had sidestepped his main objective, what he was doing would be totally worth the time investment if it only worked.

 

\------------------------------

 

Morty found himself being carried back into the strange house that he didn't like, but was getting used to by necessity; there wasn't anything to be afraid of here. The young boy was deposited in the middle of the floor by the strange-looking feathered lady and left to his own devices, which he didn't like either. He watched her towering large form walk away and began to whimper in protest, not wanting to be left alone.

However, he was quickly distracted out of his misery; the loud domestic chaos unfolding around him was more than enough to knock him out of his simple thoughts. The three, tiny-feathered children that always seemed to be inside were fighting with each other and flying around the room; this was one of the only activities that Morty had ever really observed them participate in, at least when they weren't sleeping. He would have joined in but he had chased them enough times to be bored of the game. They were nearly impossible to catch, so grabbing at them and pulling on their feathers had become a waste of his effort. Morty instead turned his attention to the furniture around him and his little mind was immediately trying to work out if there was anything fun or interesting around that he could get into.

That train of thought didn't last very long either; he saw one of the small feathery children coming at him and he gave a loud yelp, diving to the space under the couch; there was barely enough room for him to fit but he squashed himself under there anyway. He watched the feathery child crash down onto the floor, only to get back up and tackle one of his siblings, not seeming to care what had just happened.  
  
Now that Morty was under the couch, he seemed pleased with the discovery of a good hiding place. There was a stale odor surrounding the area and it was cold, but at least he felt safe. Morty's attention was soon drawn towards a bug beside him on the floor, attracted by its shiny color and iridescent green wings as it crawled along. He picked it up and promptly popped it into his mouth, a little disappointed that it didn't taste like anything. He swallowed it while it was still wiggling and didn't think about it again; he really hadn't learned a thing about randomly eating things he found lying around. That event was already distant noise and a faded memory compared to everything else that had happened since.

Morty's attention was suddenly diverted as he heard crying; he cautiously peered out from under the couch, his gaze glued to the smallest of the three feathery children as he watched her flop onto the ground. When she made louder crying noises, he knew something was wrong but his baby mind was too young to deduct what that was. He simply stared at her, finding her flailing behavior to be very strange and something to be avoided entirely. Whatever had made her upset, he wanted no part of it.

The little boy could hear low warning trilling sounds and he froze; the two bigger feathery children were staring back at him, having decided he was their next target. Their posture became low and predatory as they started prowling towards him, coming closer. Morty loudly whimpered with uncertainty; he wasn't quite old enough to reason through what was about to happen, but he already knew he really didn't like it. He scooted out from under the couch and hastily retreated. If he were with somebody from his family and feeling a little more confident, he might have been bold enough to fight back, but right now all he wanted to do was get away.

Morty made a high-pitched, terrified wail as the first one gave chase, causing him to break into his awkward, clumsy run. He took five hurried steps and teetered backwards, somehow managing to balance himself to run another eight, making sharp noises of alarm on each exhale. He stumbled forwards and as he began to trip, only to be grabbed up in a pair of large feathery arms before he hit the deck.

Gresharak puffed out all the feathers on her body as she deftly scooped Morty up in mid-tumble, glaring down at the two boys who immediately crashed into her legs as they failed to reach their intended target. “Stop this silly game. We do not chase. This is a human, he cannot fly. And you're both bigger than him, so stop being mean. You should know better than this.”

“Sorry, mom. He was a good target,” the eldest one replied, offering a pathetic grin, “it is just a game, we are not going to hurt him. Is it all right to continue practice pouncing on him?”

“NO.” Gresharak gave both of her sons a harsh glare, causing them to shrink away from her.

Morty immediately sulked in the bird woman's arms and grumbled at her in rushed nonsensical noises about his unpleasant experience. He grabbed onto her feathers and tried to climb the rest of the way up her body as if getting a higher position over the others on the floor would somehow lessen the insult of what he had just experienced.

The bird mother simply resumed what she had been doing around the house, tolerating whatever the young boy was doing to her. “I do not know a thing about you, or what you are even saying to me, little one.” She seemed a little sad as she carried him into the back room to tend to his personal needs; he smelled awful. “And worse, you may never know anything about yourself, or where you came from.”

The next couple of hours were much quieter and far more bearable. After being fed on more of the same food that had been shoveled into him previously, Morty was game enough to try playing with the feathered children again; being used as prey had been quickly forgotten. Fortunately for him, the boisterous male hatchlings and their timid sister had calmed down enough to accept the clumsy little human back into their games.

After stealing most of the cushions in the house, the couch became a pillow fort. When it became boring, they playfully shoved each other into the soft structure to make the fort collapse. After that game had become tiring, the wooden toys were dragged out and used as projectiles; Morty thought throwing them out of the open windows of the tree house was absolutely hilarious.  
  
Expending so much energy made him tired. The bird-mother seemed to pick up on this, and within another fifteen minutes, all four of them were all scooped up and placed on the giant nest-bed in the back room of the house. Morty somehow joined the tumble of limbs and wings, becoming part of the chaotic jumble of sleepy siblings. Soon there was somebody's arm across his chest, and a different child's leg comfortably bent and resting across the top of his head. He didn't care however, he was quite comfortable. He soon drifted off to sleep, his belly full of food and surrounded by many warm feathers.

 

\---------------------------------

  
It was a sad thing to admit to, but not having a child around to demand his attention or distract him at every available opportunity had meant that Rick could use his time out to be incredibly productive. He'd since finished off his side project and painted his wood carvings; now they were left out on the landing of Birdperson's tree house to dry. He retreated back to the spare nest room and powered his way through adding components to both layers of circuit board, finishing them off with the same level of precision and care he had always done. They were soon linked to each other with multiple layers of dense insulated wire and Rick was finally pleased that he was making real progress.  
  
Other things were soon pulled apart and added to the internal circuitry; the battery, the plasma core, and the LED portal generators were the only things he could salvage from the old model. He reclaimed parts from whatever gadget was accessible to him, and with a large amount of reluctance he had pulled apart his old electric guitar and amplifier, regretful for the fact he had never gotten another chance to play with them again. Soon after that, even his old cellphone was ripped apart and added to what had become a half-planned, half-improvised pile of electronic guts.  
  
His new portal gun would need a new interdimensional display, and he soon found it in the CD player that Morty had so conveniently broken a few hours earlier; it used bright red digital characters on a black background which would actually turn out to become useful in low-light conditions. Rick had to concede to the fact that if Morty hadn't been screwing around, he might never have been inspired to use such an aptly appropriate display for the device. The volume knob soon made a nice adjustable dial and it was quickly repurposed and added to the design.

Rick delicately laid the portal gun's internal guts out on the table before him, afraid to damage it, even slightly; it was so close to completion that it would just be an insult to break now. Part of him wanted to connect the battery just to see if it had enough charge, but he knew that without the plasma bulb and the casing to keep it contained, the immense energy output that would build up as soon as an active circuit was made would quickly become unstable and all his days of hard-won effort would spectacularly blow up in his face.

All he could do was wait until Birdperson returned with the bulb, and he hoped with every fiber of his being that his gamble with the glassmith would pay off. He could spend all day tomorrow on the casing, that wasn't going to be a problem. The scientist leaned back in his chair and took a sip of from the bottle of rancid, cloudy-grey wine, and although he was repulsed by the taste to the point of actually feeling nauseated by it, having anything to drink at all was better than the alternative.

Rick stared up at the ceiling as he took another forced swig from the bottle, his mind torturing him all over again. He knew that he should be feeling proud right now; the amount of progress he'd been able to make today alone was absolutely astounding. However, now that he didn't have to worry as much about his portal gun, all he felt was immense regret over how badly he'd treated his grandson. He set the open bottle aside and closed his eyes, placing a hand over his forehead, trying to make it stop. Part of him really didn't want to go back and face what he had done, but he knew he had to. He was also becoming anxious over the fact that he was likely going to get another harsh lecture from the bird woman as soon as he saw her again, because no matter how angry or cold he could portray himself to be, she would be right; he was a terrible person.

Rick sat up properly and pushed his chair back, getting to his feet. He knew that no matter what he did now, he was only delaying the inevitable. He also knew that the longer he left it, the worse it would get. He had to do something; Morty's happiness was worth everything to him and the little boy was one of the only reasons he still wanted to be alive.

He had been the one to start it; now he would be the one to end it.

 

\---------------------  
  
  
Somebody was kicking him and he didn't like it. Morty made a sleepy noise in protest and whacked his arm out to the side, smacking the leg away from his face. He was immediately rewarded with an aggressive wing-smack to the shoulder. He wasted no time grabbing onto the wing, biting into it as if to express his objections to being so rudely woken up. If he had more teeth it might have hurt, but the wing was simply withdrawn again, leaving the little boy to slobber down the front of his chin and clothes.  
  
The female hatchling was the first one to move out of the cluster, for she had been sleeping in an awkward position and wanted to stretch. Her older brother immediately saw an opportunity to pounce and tackled her to the floor. In another moment, it was no holds barred and the loud strange game of tackling and screaming was back on all over again. Morty sat back, wanting to stay well out of the fray; the last time he had participated, it had ended in abrupt contact with the floor and incredibly unpleasant experiences.  
  
When the bizarre fighting game moved out of the room, Morty simply followed it, only to stop dead in the living room; the tall, spiky-haired man who called himself 'Rick' was back, his attention locked straight on him. Morty stared up at his towering form to match his gaze but dared not approach, having remembered the fact he had been angry about something before. The little boy simply wasn't game enough to see if it was still the case, and not even the sight or smell of the familiar person would entice him to come closer until he knew it was safe; he didn't want to be yelled at again.  
  
“So what are you going to do?” He heard Gresharak's voice travel across the room from somewhere overhead. “Do you remember everything I said to you before?”  
  
“N-now's not really a good time for another lecture about that, OK?” Rick's reply was worn down and defeated. “I just... I-I just wanna take him and get out of here.”  
  
Morty didn't have the capacity to comprehend the conversation and quickly retreated under the couch, having remembered it to be a safe place. He watched Rick's feet move closer and then stand directly in the space in front of him. He still wasn't willing to come out.

“H-hey little buddy.” Rick crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees, his lab-coat tail ruffled out on the floor directly behind him. “You gonna come out and say hi, o-or are you gonna stay in that foxhole forever?”

Morty made a loud noise of alarm in reply, not wanting him to come any closer. Although the lab coat would have been something he wanted to pull on and play with under normal circumstances, he was far more interested in expressing his unhappiness in nonsensical grumbling sounds. 

“Y-yeah, I know, I know... I really screwed up this time, huh?” Rick's voice was low as he moved back to his feet and took two paces backwards, allowing the youngster some space. “Your grandpa is a horrible old man.” There wasn't even a hint of sarcasm as he made the statement; he meant every word of it.

Morty cautiously peered out from under the couch, his attention fixated on Rick's face; he didn't seem angry at all now, only very sad and tired. The little boy couldn't work out why that was the case, but it certainly made him look far safer to approach than he did before.

Rick sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, silent. He pulled a couple of brightly colored, wooden objects out of his upper coat pockets and carefully deposited them onto the floor space in front of him, hoping that the little boy's curiosity would be enticed enough to come over and take a look. His gaze attentively locked onto Morty once again as he waited to see if he was going to accept what he'd made for him, though that didn't even really matter; he just wanted to be forgiven. 

Morty finally wiggled out from under the couch and took two cautious steps forward. He still wasn't certain of Rick's mood but didn't want to risk the chance of making him upset again. He made another three wary steps across the room, finally standing in front of his grandfather, staring at his face as if needing time to read it, entirely uncertain of himself; he didn't know what was going to happen.  
  
Rick sat and patiently waited, prepared to stay for however long it took for his grandson to relax in his presence again. With an outstretched hand, he gently nudged the first of the wooden objects towards the little boy and then the other, hoping to gain his interest with them. Both of them were small, wooden toys he'd made during the day simply because Morty didn't have any of his own to play with. The first was a small, round-toy spaceship that he'd carved out of a piece of driftwood near one of the hot springs. The other was a tiny, wooden portal gun that he'd painted up to look like a near-identical replica to the one he had been designing, made to scale for Morty's size. He'd spent the most amount of time on it simply because he had wanted it to look accurate. He knew that a baby wouldn't care about such details, but he certainly did.  
  
Morty bent over to pick up the wooden spaceship, holding onto it with his left hand. He gave it an experimental shake, only to discover that it didn't make noise like a lot of the other toys he used to own and he quickly lost interest. He made a grab for the tiny portal gun toy and popped the handle straight into his mouth.  
  
“If that's what you want to do with it, little buddy, then you do that.” Rick told him, his voice quiet. “I actually don't want you to touch mine when it's done, so... we finally have a compromise. And yours actually got finished before mine, s-so technically, you have the first one off the production line.”

Morty's attention drifted from one toy to the other in his hands, and then he dropped them both onto the floor so he could crawl into the empty space in his grandfather's lap. Once he worked out he wasn't going to be shoved away, he buried his face into Rick's shirt, happy to be close and take comfort in his warm familiar scent.

Rick lowered his head, regret still weighing heavily on his heart. While he was relieved about the fact that Morty was willing to sit on him again, it didn't do anything to make him feel better. He raised a hand and idly allowed his fingers to play through the baby boy's hair as he ruffled it up, noticing that it was growing out and becoming almost too long for him. It had started forming into small soft, unkempt spiky clumps over the top of his forehead and he began to wonder if it was a case of genetics being expressed or the fact that he hadn't had a decent bath in a while.  
  
Without saying anything, Rick reached out to pick up the wooden toys and placed them back inside his lab-coat pockets. He carefully picked Morty up, holding him firmly in one arm as he pushed himself back up onto his feet. His attention was on the doorway now, and all he wanted to do was get out of there so he could make a proper apology to the little boy back in the privacy of his own room.   
  
“Are you leaving?” Gresharak's voice called out across the room and she moved to stand in the doorway; she had been staying back out of the way, silently watching them the entire time.  
  
“Y-yeah.” Rick's response was quiet and devoid of his usual overtone of anger and grumpiness. He shrugged at her and stepped outside.   
  
The feathery woman quickly moved after him. “Can I have a word with you?” The words came out rather hurriedly as she stood in the doorway, though her tone was completely unidentifiable.  
  
Rick didn't like the sound of those words and was incredibly suspicious; he didn't want to give her any more opportunities to launch into another long-winded talk. He responded with a short irritated huff as if to express the fact he wasn't interested, and he retrieved the baby harness from where he had dumped it outside the doorway, wanting to hasten his retreat.  
  
Gresharak shook her head, knowing that he had a right to be grumpy after the conversation they had earlier in the day. “Look, I know you are trying as we all do. We all worry about the kind of job we are doing. We worry if we are being good parents and if our actions are negatively affecting the people we care about. However, that does not excuse my behavior today. I passed judgment too harshly and I cannot help but wonder what would have happened if I was not present. I feel that my being there only prolonged the suffering for both of you.”  
  
“Don't worry about it.” Rick grunted back at her as he set Morty into the harness. Once he was satisfied that the little boy was secure, he carefully slipped his arms into the straps and hauled Morty over his back. “You had a valid point, t-that's all that needs to be said.” He clipped the remaining straps firmly around his chest, his fingers lingering over one of the holes that had been made via shrapnel damage; it was yet another reminder of the situation they were in and made his mind wander back to the events that had taken place nearly a week ago. The scenes began playing out from his memory and he became quite distracted, his gaze distant.  
  
Gresharak moved to stand in front of him, staring at his faraway expression. She found him a positively impossible creature to predict, and she was a little surprised he hadn't blown up. “Are you all right?”  
  
Rick didn't answer her; his mind had zoned him out entirely.  
  
The bird mother sighed. She could see that something was really troubling him and she guessed that it was because of what she had just said. She stepped in close and moved her arms around the willowy human, pulling him in close to her chest for a big crushing hug. “You are not going to appreciate this, but you could do with it anyway.”   
  
Rick was immediately snapped out of his thought processes and flailed his arms in immediate objection. “W-what the hell?!” He tried to get away, but she was holding onto him too hard. After she had released him, he stumbled backwards in disgust, immediately turning his attention towards straightening his lab coat and clothes; it was all he could do to redirect his annoyance. “Do you have ANY respect for personal space!?”  
  
Gresharak stepped back, clutching her hands together, smiling at him, having found his awkwardness amusing to watch. “I am sorry for the grief I have caused you today, and I am also sorry that I judged you. I barely know you and I thought it my place to speak my mind. I am saying this because I care.”  
  
Rick flattened his brows as low as they would go, giving her the most unimpressed face he could muster, finding her sappiness almost nauseating to listen to. “It's just a word. You know that, right?” He turned around and headed for the rope ladder. “That word is so commonly overused that it has no meaning anymore. You truly wanna say sorry? Do it with actions, don't talk about it. Liquor says 'I'm sorry' SO much better than words.” He paused after making his way down two steps to glare back at her. “And none of that horrible, seed-wine bullshit!”  
  
Morty made happy noises as he peered over Rick's shoulder, his attention up on the bird woman. As he watched her position rise higher and higher with each ladder step that his grandfather took on the way down, he gave her a clumsy wave in their departure. He was finally happy again.

 

\-----------------------------------

  
Being able to escape back to the privacy of his room had been more than a welcome relief for Rick. He had been mentally preparing himself all day for this moment and now it was finally time, he was going to invest a hundred percent of his attention and effort into demonstrating how sorry he was. His confidence in being able to manage the needs of the little boy that he was entirely responsible for had taken a huge beating today, and all he wanted to do was make the guilt go away. However, he was already aware of the fact that he might not be able to.

All he could do was try.

He turned the overhead light off; it would be too harsh for what he wanted to do right now. Once the lamp at his desk was on, he aimed it at the wall and adjusted it until the light of the room was to his liking. 

He unclipped the baby harness and took Morty out of it, only to retreat with him to his roll-away cot; the little boy deserved some serious cuddle time. As he lay down on his back, he set the youngster at his chest and ignored the faint pain and intense itchiness that flared up all the way up his back as he pressed his body weight down onto his healing injuries. He knew that his sutures would probably need to come out soon, but he would leave them another couple of days before asking about it; he really didn't want to see that medic again if he could help it.

Morty responded positively to being on Rick's chest. He turned his head sideways, wasting no time to seek out the sound of his grandpa's beating heart where it was loudest at his sternum; he had always found it particularly soothing. Just being back with his favorite person and enveloped in his warmth and familiar scent made him dreamily content. 

“I'm really sorry that I keep fucking you around, Morty...” Rick's voice was very quiet and miserable as he placed one hand on the little boy's back, the other on his head, idly running his hand through his soft hair. He'd been wanting to do this for a while, but had been denied of the ability to do so; it had simply hurt too much until now. “I just want to do right by you, but I keep failing at it...” His brows were creased in heavy regret as he carefully watched the little boy, relieved that he was willing to accept his presence again.  
  
“How the hell do I keep managing to screw up so hard with you, little buddy?” As he watched his grandson, his mouth twisted into a guilty frown. Morty was a baby and may have easily let it go, however Rick's mind was far more complex and he simply couldn't, and he had completely lost faith in his ability not to do it again. “I-I keep hurting you somehow, but I don't want to. I'm not supposed to be doing this... tiny little guy like you makes my universe just that little bit more bearable. All you wanna do is be close to me, but I keep losing my shit. We're both having a rough time of it, but... I really have no right to keep doing this to you. You deserve so much better than me...”  
  
Morty raised his head, his gaze deep in his grandfather's eyes now. He didn't understand why he was so upset, but he didn't like it.  
  
“Do you... you think you could, y'know... try to behave a little more?” Rick's attention was locked on Morty as he placed both hands on the little boy's back, idly patting him as he continued to talk. “I'm trying, I really am, b-but you're not making it easy. You know everything I'm doing right now is for you, right? You're too young to understand that right now, but one day you're going to ask me what the fuck is going on, and... I don't even know how to begin that conversation...” He blinked hard, fighting back the desire to shed tears. He knew that he was only working himself up, but he had to speak his mind; the fact that Morty was so young and didn't understand didn't even matter anymore. He knew he could pick up on the tone and emotion in his voice and that was all he needed.

“It's really, really hard...” His expression was pained as he finally met Morty's gaze with his own. “I get where you're coming from, I need to do right by you. I-I love you, more than anything... y-you have no idea,” he had to choke back a singular sob, “I can't even give you that properly, hell, I don't even know what I'm doing...” Both hands gently cuddled the little boy into his chest, holding onto him, not wanting to let him go. “I-I'm really sorry you're here with me now, kiddo. We're both so unbelievably fucked beyond redemption, and you know what's worse? W-what the fuck are we even gonna do once the portal gun is finished...? I... I have no idea... we're so screwed...” The first tears rolled down the sides of his face and he knew it was pointless to stop trying to hold them back. “I-I literally have no idea what to do...” His breath came out in pained, gentle sobs and he closed his eyes, no longer being able to stop himself. “I-I'm so sorry, little buddy...”

Morty wiggled out from underneath Rick's hands and sat up. He inched forwards and placed his little hands on both sides of Rick's wet face, peering down at him, wanting him to stop being so sad. He began mumbling to him in unhappy nonsense, wordlessly expressing his worry. In another moment he began to whimper, becoming miserable because he didn't want to see him so upset. He clumsily moved back to lay down into the crook of his grandpa's neck, wrapping his tiny arms around his neck, offering what little comfort he could.   
  
Rick raised his hand up, running it down the length of Morty's spine. “Oh my god... what the hell did I do right to deserve you...?”

He didn't have an answer. Rick simply lay in the dim light of the room, the only sounds were his own soft pathetic noises and Morty's soft, little, raspy breaths. He cuddled the little boy because it was the only thing he wanted to do anymore; he was utterly broken, his heart was heavy, and his confidence had been completely destroyed.

It was in that moment he realized he needed the little boy almost as much as he needed him. And he was thankful just to have him there, even if the circumstances behind it all were utterly deplorable.

 


	10. Shafted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always this chapter has been beta-read by the wonderful Unlvcrjchick over on Tumblr! 
> 
> This chapter contains a bit of craziness and deviated from the main storyline a bit, but it resolves itself fairly quickly.
> 
> Yay!

**** **Chapter 10 – Shafted**

  
**November 23rd, 6:12am Local Time, 2001  
** **Birdperson's Tree House  
** **Bird World, Dimension Unknown  
  
** \-----------------------  
  
Rick had fallen asleep at some point with Morty nuzzled in the crook of his neck. Although the little boy had snored into his ear throughout the entire night, Rick couldn't have cared less; if it made him happy, then so be it.

As he woke up, the scientist felt bizarrely peaceful; getting everything off his chest had proven to be a very cathartic experience and the fact that his grandson had so willingly accepted him back was particularly freeing all by itself. There was a large trail of wet baby drool that had seeped down his neck and into his hair over the night but he didn't mind too much; after what had happened, Rick had given up to the point that he would simply accept anything Morty did to him. If he had any concerns about the fact he was becoming soft in his old age or too much of a pushover, they were certainly dashed by now; he was one hundred percent certain he was already there.  
  
Maybe that wasn't even a bad thing.

The sound of heavy rain outside had been a factor in waking him up, but not unpleasantly so; it only added to his sense of peace and calm. He'd suffered through so many unnatural and unpleasant experiences over the past week alone that just hearing something so mundane as rain against the roof of the tree house brought a vague sense of normalcy back to his existence.   
  
A muffled crack of thunder rolled through the heavily clouded sky somewhere overhead and Morty had woken up enough to grumble about it. Rick quickly settled him by patting him on the back; the last thing he wanted was for the little boy to wake up properly and start crying right next to his ear. When Morty seemed to calm again with relative ease, Rick was pleased and ruffled a hand through the youngster's hair. He did this partly to reward the behavior, but mostly because he just wanted to spend a little more time with him in the peace and quiet.  
  
“Yeah, don't worry about it, kiddo.” He told him in a low and gentle voice, not seeming to care in the slightest that he still appeared to be sleeping. “It's just a storm. It's nothing. It'll soon pass.”  
  
Now that Rick was more awake, his mind was already hard at work once again and pondering their next plan of attack. He was certain that if he only properly managed his time today, he could get the new portal gun to the point of being able to fire by the time the sun went down again. It was so close to completion now and it was positively driving him insane with eagerness.

Before he could think much more about time management, he felt a sharp, uncomfortable stirring in the pit of his lower gut. Rick sighed in annoyance and knew right away that this wasn't going to be something he could just ignore; he'd been eating nothing but root vegetables and hard fibrous grain since arriving on Bird World, and when things needed to move, they really did need to move.  
  
Morty was in a good position to nudge off and the little boy didn't make a peep of protest when he was gently picked up and placed back down onto the cot. After making sure he was settled once again, Rick promptly got to his feet and retreated to the bathroom, needing to take care of the outstanding discomfort.

Unfortunately for him, Morty had been awake. The little boy sat up properly as he felt the weight beside him rise up from the mattress, only to watch his grandfather pace out of the room. He hastily pushed himself off the bed so he could follow, however, the bathroom door was already shutting by the time his short, little legs had allowed him to catch up. He began to bang on the closed door with his fists, whimpering in protest because he wanted to be in there with his favorite person. He had absolutely no concept of the word 'privacy'.

“Oh my god, Morty!” Rick called out to him from behind the door. “C-can't you give your grandpa five minutes of quiet time so he can take a shit!?”

Morty responded with another barrage of little fists on the door and even louder whimpering. “R-Rrriii!” He demanded, flattening his upper body against the door as if it would help somehow.

Rick lowered his head and conceded to the fact that he would just have to make Morty cry this one out; he didn't know how long he would be in there and he was mildly annoyed at the fact that there wasn't even anything to read.

The noise had already attracted the attention of Birdperson, who moved down the hallway and stood over the screaming child, staring down at him with bewilderment. He wasn't quite sure what the source of this one was just yet, but the small human was displaying unusual behavior indeed.

Morty ignored him and continued to pound on the door. He backed up, only to slam the weight of his whole upper body into the door again, escalating his noises of protest into full-blown crying.

“Rick, is this something I should be concerned about?” Birdperson asked suddenly. “I do not know what to do.”

“How about just going away and leaving me alone, huh!?” Rick's frustrated voice yelled at him from the other side of the closed door. “Just leave him be, he'll get bored of it!”  
  
Birdperson slowly nodded. “When you are ready, I have a glass bulb to give to you. It was delivered just after dawn, though you could be forgiven for not knowing when that was considering how overcast it is outside. The glassmith diligently worked on it all night because you needed it in a hurry. It was created to match your specification so I think you will be pleased.”  
  
Rick's anger seemed to have entirely disintegrated. “Oh, good news for once, huh? So what's the damage?”  
  
Birdperson hesitated momentarily before his reply; he already knew that his friend was going to be upset. “The glassmith wants fifteen hundred schmeckles.”  
  
“Oh my god! Does he want both my balls, too!?” Rick's yelling voice echoed off the bathroom walls as he snapped back at him. “Holy fucking shit, w-where am I going to get that kind of money!?”  
  
“Do bear in mind that most of the fee came from the fact that you needed it so soon, Rick. Do not worry, you will come up with a solution. You always do.” Birdperson told him as he moved off down the hallway, leaving both Rick and Morty to what they had been doing. Though, he had to admit to himself that both humans were exhibiting such odd behavior that he found them to be even more strange and puzzling creatures than he had previously thought.

After another ten minutes, Rick felt much better about himself. After finishing up in the bathroom and washing his hands, he made a point of shooting a very-disapproving glare in the young boy's direction as he made his way back into the spare nest room. Although he was quite prepared to let his grandson do pretty much whatever he wanted, he still wanted to set boundaries and limitations.

Learning about privacy was going to be a very important lesson indeed. He didn't have the faintest idea how to start teaching it, or even if Morty's mind was developed enough to pick up the concept. It was quickly cast aside for more important thoughts.  
  
Birdperson was already waiting for Rick at the workbench, the new plasma-containment bulb in his left hand. The scientist wasted no time snatching it up to inspect it under the light of the lamp on his desk, prepared to scrutinize every last millimeter to make sure it was up to his discriminating standards and genuinely worth the price being demanded of him. He plucked up a magnifying glass and scowled as he looked it over a second time, not seeming to mind when Morty thumped straight into his legs.  
  
“Y-yeah, yeah, yeah...” Rick grumbled as he turned the bulb over in his fingers one last time, not being able to find a single flaw. He carefully dropped it onto the desk with the other portal gun parts and muttered under his breath in annoyance, tossing his magnifying glass across the desk on exhale. “Fifteen hundred fucking schmeckles it is. Tell him to give me two weeks...”  
  
Birdperson nodded at him.  
  
Rick's mind had let it go in another moment; it was what it was and he would have to accept it. He was already thinking ahead and his next words came out rather suddenly. “How easy is it to get into the ceramic kilns?”  
  
Birdperson seemed confused; Rick was making yet another strange request, but he knew better than to ask. “How quickly do you need to get there?”  
  
“As soon as possible,” Rick shrugged in reply, “I also need to get into the metalworking shop so I can play with their forge. If I can get both of those things done today, we'll be all set. Then we can finally get out of your hair... uh... feathers?”  
  
“I am taking off shortly as I have errands of my own to run.” Birdperson's attention was out the nearest window and for just a moment he seemed ever so slightly unhappy. “I have already heard news that the weather will turn bad this afternoon, but it would not be a problem to drop you off. However, if you wish to remain safe, you will have to wait to be picked up again, possibly until after the bad weather has passed. It is an impossible feat to fly in heavy rain.”  
  
“Hrrrmpphh...” Rick scowled. “Give me another five minutes to take care of stinkbutt, he can come with. I... I-I can't really see any reason to leave him behind today,” the scientist turned his attention down to the little boy still hugging onto his leg, “that is, if you can keep your goddamn mouth shut and play with the bribes I made for you.”  
  
Morty made a loud happy squeal in response despite the fact he had absolutely no idea what had just been said.

“Good,” Rick grunted at him, “let's get this shit rolling.”

After a quick diaper change, Rick stuffed Morty into the baby harness and clipped it up on his chest. He moved across the room and tore down some of his more recent gun blueprint designs, figuring that he could probably trade them off for something more useful. Next, he was back at the desk and picking up chunks of raw metal to throw into the backpack; he already knew the exact alloy ratios he needed to make the portal gun's metal containment casing layer and fully intended to take advantage of what he had available to him.  
  
He just hoped the forge workers would let him play with their equipment; he would have to persuade them somehow.  
  
Rick carefully packed away the portal gun parts and everything else he figured that he would need for the day and then he was out on the landing, the backpack lugged uncomfortably over his left shoulder. He had resigned to the fact that the setup made him look absolutely ridiculous, but it had become necessary in order for him and his grandson to function as a team.   
  
As Birdperson picked them up and flew across the tops of the trees, Rick found amusement in the fact that Morty seemed absolutely thrilled to be in the air. Rick had done it so many times that it had lost its novelty, but seeing the little boy stare in wonderment like it was the best thing in the world brought a genuine smile to his face. He made a mental note to take Morty flying again in the future; he was sure they'd be doing it many, many times over the years to come if they were going to stay together.  
  
Birdperson caught a sharp updraft with his wings and picked up speed, tearing across the landscape without a second thought. As soon as the small builder's district came into view below, he circled the airspace and made a cautious landing, being careful to drop the human and his precious cargo safely onto the ground in front of him.  
  
Rick was thankful for the ride and after observing the distance from overhead, he knew that he would have wasted precious time just walking here. “Thanks, BP!” His tone was genuinely happy as he set his backpack down on the ground beside him. “I owe you one.”  
  
“No, you do not. And you never shall.” Birdperson's reply was calm as he flared out his wings and took off again.   
  
Rick sighed as he watched his best friend's form vanish over the height of the trees once again; it seemed that he was never going to shut up about being indebted to him. However, the scientist was quickly distracted by the area around him; several small, one-level buildings were teeming with activity and he had come here with a specific purpose in mind. Although he had no money, he fully intended to either trade away what he had brought with him, or throw his importance around and namedrop himself in order to pull favors. He didn't much like calling attention to what he had done for Bird World, but if it bought him something useful, then he was more than willing to abuse the tactic.  
  
“You gotta stay close to me today, little buddy.” Rick told Morty as he lightly drummed him on the head with the index finger of his right hand, his voice firm. “There's lots of shit that can hurt you out here and I don't want you getting lost.” He picked the bag back up and headed straight in through the open doorway of the ceramic workshop. “I really mean it today, kiddo... stay where I can see you at all times. Got that?”  
  
Morty responded with a delighted squeal, positively loving the game of being poked.  
  
“What is the hatchling doing here?” One of the workers immediately grunted at the sound of the small child, his attention locked straight onto the strange, flightless biped in his work space, his expression turning suspicious. “No kids allowed.” He stood up, reaching his full height. The male bird person puffed out his chest and ruffled out all his neck feathers in order to make himself look big and imposing.  
  
Rick was utterly unfazed by the show of masculinity and simply narrowed his eyes in response. “He's with me, g-got a problem with that?” He growled back at him with just as much hostility, wanting to demonstrate that he wasn't about to be intimidated. “Do you know who I am? I'm Rick Sanchez, bitch. I'm the little human that saved your backwater dirtball of a planet. Show some fucking respect!”  
  
The ceramic worker simply shrugged back at him. “We know who you are, the community has been talking about your return for days. Get to the point, why are you here? What do you want?”  
  
“I wanna use your space to build something.” Rick scowled back at him in irritation, though a part of him appreciated the fact that the other was uninterested in small-talk. “All I need is some tree-resin and clay - the same quality grade stuff you build armor out of. If I can get access to the kiln, I'll stay out of your way as much as I can. I've got too much shit to do and if you're not interested in who I am, I have stuff to trade if it will motivate you. So... you wanna barter, or are we gonna stand here all day? B-because I'm not leaving until I get what I want.”  
  
“Is that so?” The male's hostility evaporated and he suddenly seemed quite curious and interested in the human. “What have you got for me?”  
  
Rick pulled out the first set of gun blueprints to show off, though the ceramic worker was completely uninterested. With a loud frustrated huff, the scientist laid out tools and screwdrivers onto the nearest workbench, dropping his own ionic soldering gun on the flat surface to the left of the clutter. Finally, he pulled out the disgusting bottle of cloudy wine that Birdperson had given him and set it down beside the other items, figuring that it couldn't hurt to put something familiar on display.  
  
“If you want this,” Rick made a point of tapping the soldering gun with an index finger, “it's gonna cost you big time. If you want any of the other shit, I don't care, take it. I-If you can wait a couple of weeks, I'll even pay you, hell... just let me use your space. I promise I'll be outta here as soon as possible.”  
  
To his complete surprise, the ceramic worker took the bottle of wine. Rick stared at him, wide-eyed; he hadn't expected that at all. He wasn't about to question it, though; if the guy wanted to drink terrible booze then that was on him. However, it did put his mind in two conflicting places; the bottle had come at no cost to him so that was no problem, but now he had nothing to drink all over again. He wished he had the sense to at least take a sip before handing it over.

Sobriety was never a good place for him to be because it always brought up some of the darkest thoughts and memories that he had done his best to suppress over the years. Rick quickly shrugged it off; he would deal with it later. As he picked the items back up, he stuffed them back into his backpack, keen to get to work.

Over the next hour, Rick experimented with resins and ceramic powders, mixing them up as he tried to work out the perfect ratio that would ensure that the final product would be high-heat resistant and shatter proof. Morty grumbled throughout the entire process; his grandfather was being boring and he couldn't move around or play with anything. Rick did his best to shut him up, but concentrating on doing the job well and keeping a baby entertained was a difficult act to balance.  
  
After another hour had passed, Morty had fallen asleep, having decided it was a good time for a nap. Rick was relieved for the peace and quiet and used the time to sculpt the casing out in its entirety along with the small maintenance hatch he had incorporated into the design. It was still hollow and wet, which meant it would be extremely fragile until it was cured. He carefully set it down into one of the open, cold kiln shelves alongside other ceramic pieces that were ready for firing and slipped out of the workshop again, pleased with himself that he had finished one of the few remaining things he had left to do.  
  
It was at this moment that he noticed that a heavy, cold breeze had picked up and that dark, ominous-looking storm clouds were looming on the horizon; Birdperson's prediction about the weather turning bad was right on the money. However, he couldn't possibly guess how deep the truth of that statement would become and shrugged it off like so many other thoughts as he headed for the metalworking shop, his mind far more occupied with getting things finished than the state of the sky overhead.  
  
“OK, little buddy,” Rick glanced down at Morty as he stood at the door, “you're being really good and I appreciate that. But this place we're about to walk into is r-UURRPP really fucking dangerous. There's lots of sharp pointy tools, hammers that can hurt you, and molten shit that could burn a hole through your flesh in an instant, s-so I need you to be on your best behavior for a few hours. Got that?”  
  
Morty responded with a tired yawn and snuggled his head into the anti-puke guard of the baby harness, being able to hear his grandfather's muffled heartbeat through the layers of cloth and padding. He was warm and in a safe place, so little else mattered to him.  
  
Rick shook his head and pushed his way inside, immediately being blocked at the doorway by a large muscular bird woman. As she held the door from being opened any further, she stared hard at him, her height towering over his lanky form.  
  
“What are you doing? You should not be here.” Her tone was harsh and unpleasant. “This place is going to be closed soon as the cloudwatchers have predicted a huge storm with hurricane force winds and flash flooding to the lowlands. They have said that the storm cell is going to pass right through this area. You would have to be completely crazy to consider staying here after receiving that kind of news.”  
  
Rick had to laugh at that; she obviously had no idea who he was. When he realized she was still staring at him, he shrugged his shoulders and launched straight into his next thought. “'Cloudwatchers'? I-is that some kind of superstitious bullshit you guys believe in?” The scientist placed his own hand on the door and continued trying to push it open. “Come on, lady, I'll be really quick. We'll be long gone before it arrives.”  
  
“No.” She held the door in place, standing firm.  
  
Rick attempted to give the door another shove, but she was much stronger than he was. “Come on, cut me some slack... y-you have no idea how important this is to me!”  
  
The bird woman shook her head. “I mean it. I need to shut this place down and to make sure it does not get ruined by storm damage. This place is my livelihood and my hatchlings do not get fed if this place is not running in optimal form. You have young of your own, so surely you can understand that.”

Rick was becoming frustrated and desperate. “Don't make me beg, please!” He stepped back from the door, locking eyes with her, glaring hard. “Do you even know who I am?” He paused, not wanting to push his luck and risk making her angry: he simply couldn't afford to be turned away. “Look... do you want me to help you lock the place down? What's it going to take to make you change your mind? I have shit I can trade you, I can pay you if you're patient enough... c-come on, help me out here, I really need this!”  
  
The bird woman stepped back from the door, sighing as she conceded to the smaller creature's tenacity; his urgency seemed genuine enough. “Fine... but be quick. The only reason I'm letting you in here is because the forge is still hot,” she paused, nodding at the child strapped to his chest, “but you have to leave your hatchling outside. The fumes in here can be overwhelming for us full-grown adults, let alone a small child. I would hate to see such a tiny, precious little thing be harmed by your own stupidity.”  
  
Rick's left eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. He had always hated being called stupid and had to bite his tongue to stop himself from exploding into a wild fit of anger; he wasn't about to risk increasing his chances of being kicked out.  
  
“Fine, but... leave the door open so I can keep an eye on him, OK?” His voice was dangerous and low as he finally responded. He turned his back on her and took the wooden toys out of his lab-coat pockets, along with one of his flat-headed screwdrivers, figuring there was nothing harmful about it that could hurt his grandson. “Here you go, buddy, stay with these.” He dropped the screwdriver and the toys on the ground just outside the doorway.   
  
The stocky female nodded at him and repositioned the door so that it would stay open. “It is going to get windy and cold very soon. The forge will not go out if the door is open but you will need to work quickly.”  
  
“Yeah yeah, whatever!” Rick was fast losing what little composure he had managed to hold onto. “I'll show you the blueprints, you can see for yourself how critical it is that I finish this.” He hurriedly took Morty out of the baby harness and placed him on the ground. “Do you hear me, little buddy? DON'T move.”

Morty made small cooing noises in response and immediately sat his rump in the dirt. He picked up the tiny, wooden portal gun to turn over in his hands and despite the fact it didn't make noise, the bright colors were still enough to hold his interest, at least, for a short time.  
  
“Good.” Rick headed inside and dumped the backpack onto the top of the nearest workbench, ripping out one of the blueprints to wave at her. “See this? I need to make it as quickly as possible.” He pulled out two large chunks of raw metal and practically slammed them down onto the table. In another moment he had a pen out and was hastily scratching out calculations across the top of the paper. “I have palladium and aluminum here. I don't know how common these elements are on your planet but I need to melt them down and make an alloy sheet, and then cut it out like this...”   
  
The female bird person watched carefully as the strange wingless biped began working, and then stood over his other blueprints, immediately recognizing some of the older designs.  
  
Meanwhile, Morty was fast becoming bored. He picked up the screwdriver, but it didn't make noise and there was nothing fun about it. With a clumsy backhanded pitch, he threw it straight into a patch of weedy bushes nearby, finding only momentary amusement in the activity. His interest was quickly captured by watching several spiked leaves skitter across the stoned pathway nearby as they were dragged through the air by rushing wind. It was at that moment he heard a harsh crack of lightning across the sky, and his attention was drawn towards one of Gresharak's hatchlings. He saw her running but couldn't understand why. He called out to her but she didn't respond.  
  
Morty moved to his feet, feeling conflicted; he remembered something about being told to stay there, but as he peered back through the open doorway, he could already see that Rick wasn't paying even the tiniest amount of attention to him. All he could see now was that the spiky-haired man held up pieces of blue paper as he launched into a full explanation with a stranger about things that he couldn't even begin to comprehend or understand.  
  
The little boy clutched the wooden portal gun toy tightly in his little hands as he ran across the open area, trying to catch up to the older child in a clumsy, uncoordinated run. He called out to her again as he chased her across the open area of the small village, this time much louder; he wanted to show her his new toy.

The female hatchling didn't seem to hear him. She simply continued her retreat, spooked by the loud storm activity that was developing overhead. She dove into some shrubbery at the edge of the village and began to cower in amongst the dense spiked branches, her entire body quivering with fear.  
  
Morty became frustrated as he continued to follow, calling even louder as he moved straight into her space. The young boy made a sharp, wordless grunt as he held the portal gun toy out towards the little girl, wanting to share it with her.   
  
The young female looked up, staring back at the little boy with wide, frightened, tear-stained eyes. “Morty...?” She squeaked at him, her voice very quiet. “Why are you here?”  
  
Morty immediately replied with another loud, demanding sound, only one thought persisting in his baby thoughts; he thrust the small wooden toy into her feathery chest, poking her hard with it. Why didn't she find it as interesting as he did?

  
The little girl took the portal gun in one hand, confused by its foreign shape, not even remotely understanding its significance to him. “Are you lost? Where is your papa? Do not worry, I lost mine, too...” Before she could say any more, every feather on her body bristled at the sound of cracking thunder overhead and she took Morty by the hand, dragging him out of the bushes again. “We need to go!”   
  


Morty was confused as the little girl grabbed him, and he stumbled as he was hastily pulled along with her. For a short moment he was worried that Rick would be mad, but it was quickly forgotten; this looked like a new game and he wanted to see where the girl was going to go. He ran with her pace as best as he could manage, using her steady grasp to keep himself balanced, not caring one whit about the bad weather. He was just happy to be led off to wherever she would take him.  
  
  
\----------------------  
  
  
Rick repeatedly brought a heavy, metalworking hammer down onto hot pliable alloy, smacking the shape down until it spread out. After many more coordinated whacks, he had molded the shape into a flat piece of metal sheeting. As he pulled the protective goggles up off from his eyes and set them on his forehead, he picked up a set of forceps to turn the sheet of metal over, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. It didn't last long, however; all it took was one look at the deteriorating conditions out the nearest window and he was back at it, positively determined to get as much done as possible before he was kicked out.  
  
After another round of slightly-more-urgent hammering, he was finally satisfied and set the tools aside. He could already see that the bird woman was staring at him expectantly and he guessed it was a cue to indicate that his time was up. He yanked the heat-protective gloves off both hands and tossed them onto the bench beside the hot metal, immensely irritated; he had wanted to get so much more done.  
  
“Y-yeah I know... time to go, right?” Rick's tone was bitter as he spoke. “I know when I'm not wanted.”  
  
“No. I have a blast shelter downstairs. It was built during the war and I use it for times like these. You can take your things downstairs until the storm passes.” The female continued to stare at him, her expression growing concerned. “I was actually going to ask where your hatchling went... I did not see him come inside and he is not out there anymore.”  
  
“O-oh my god...” Rick's heart skipped a beat and he felt his blood run ice cold. He rushed to the doorway, but all he saw was the tiny, wooden spaceship, lying there all by itself on the soggy ground. “No... NO!”   
  
“It is all right, he probably didn't get too far away.” The female suggested, her voice quiet.  
  
Rick ignored her entirely, her words not even registering in his mind. He picked up the wooden toy and stuffed it back into his lab-coat pocket, his eyes quickly scanning the immediate area outside the workshop. However, Morty was nowhere to be seen and the village was abandoned. “Morty? Morty!? Where the fuck are you!?”  
  
“Maybe he came inside?” The female suggested again, her voice vaguely hopeful. “Hatchlings like to sneak and prowl, you know, mayb--”  
  
“For fuck's sake, he isn't a hatchling!” Rick snapped harshly as he cut her off, the last shreds of his composure completely gone. “We're not like your species at all! He's not smart, h-he... he's a dumb little kid who hasn't developed enough sense to know what danger is. He's a walking meat sack that slobbers and shits itself!”  
  
“Well I didn't mean t--”  
  
“I don't give a rat's ass what you think!” Rick bellowed at her as he ran into the middle of the village, completely forgetting everything else he had just been doing. “Morty!? Where the hell are you hiding, y-you stupid piece of shit!?” He positioned both hands at the sides of his mouth and called out again. “MORTY?!” He scanned the immediate area once again, but saw nothing. It frustrated him immensely; Morty had been wearing bright yellow clothes, so he would have been obvious to spot.  
  
Rick was becoming frantic, his mind growing completely irrational. This was completely beyond anything he had ever had to deal with before and it scared the hell out of him; every ounce of his being was worried for Morty's safety and he began panicking. He knew Bird World had predators and that a helpless little boy like his grandson would easily become a quick meal if the opportunity only presented itself.

He would NOT let that happen if he could help it.

Rick knew that if he didn't find him soon, he would perish relatively quickly; he was little more than a baby and far too young to take care of himself. He also knew the weather was only going to get worse and if the little boy was caught out in it, he would likely freeze to death; rain combined with gale-force winds would sap the life out of anything that was dumb enough to stay out in it.  
  
Dark rain clouds were swollen overhead and rumbling thunder accompanied them, threatening to break loose at any moment. He didn't care. He began running as if his life depended on it, disappearing into the dense underbrush beyond the village. His voice became harsh and sore as he called the same thing out over and over again in his desperation.

“Morty?”  
  
“Morty?!”  
  
“MORTY!?”

 

\-------------------------------  
  
  
Rick continued running, the tail of his lab coat flaring out behind him. His eyes constantly scanned the dense forest as he went on, looking for a flash of yellow amongst the trees, a different color, any kind of sign, anything even remotely different that wasn't a plant or a rock. For how long he ran, he didn't know. He wanted a drink. He felt nauseated. He wanted to throw up but couldn't; he didn't have time to waste on such things anyway.  
  
At that moment, there was a deafeningly loud crack of thunder overhead and a torrent of rain belted down from the heavens above. In less than three seconds, Rick was saturated from head to toe; his cold clothing uncomfortably clung to him and his hair was completely flattened in wet soggy clumps.  
  
As he kept running, his muscles burned like they were pumping battery acid. He pushed through it and kept going, his travels taking him into dense temperate forest. He still hadn't found anything yet and his mind was beginning to conclude that the situation was probably beyond hopeless already; he wasn't even sure which direction Morty had run off to in the first place, let alone how to find him without any kind of directions, instructions, or tracking devices.   
  
Rick heavily leaned his weight against a giant, hundred-year-old oak tree as he came to a stop, completely worn down by running and the fact that he had worked himself up into such a state of panic. As the scientist buried his face in his hands, his mind began to give in to despair and he mentally berated himself for being inattentive as well as being so stupid as to put his work before the needs and safety of his family. It was what he had always done, it was just habitual. It had never done him any favors and it certainly wasn't doing him any now; it may have just cost his last living relative his own life.  
  
“Stupid... s-so fucking stupid...” The spiky-haired man slumped down, his back scraping against tree bark as he sank into a defeated sitting position. The sound of heavy rain thrashed down all around him and he began to shiver as the harsh cold sapped the heat out of his soaking-wet body and clothes; he still didn't care. He couldn't have cried at this point even if he had wanted to; his mind was giving up. If Morty was gone, he was completely done. He literally had no reason left to continue existing.   
  
A faint cry suddenly rose above the cacophony of the storm and Rick sat bolt upright, his eyes widening in momentary hope; it sounded just like a child's voice. He held his breath as he waited for another and then began to wonder if he was going crazy, or if his mind was playing cruel tricks on him.  
  
When he heard it again, he was back up on his feet and running all over again, heading in the direction of the sound with renewed energy. “Morty? I-is that you? Oh god, call back to me, buddy! C-come on, where are you!?”

The sound brought Rick into a clearing amongst dense trees and his heart sank at his next discovery; one of Gresharak's hatchlings was shivering out in the open and crying for help in between her sobs. She was utterly miserable and her feathers made a pathetic attempt to puff out and retain heat, though she was completely drenched and it did nothing for her.

Rick shook his head and made his way over, crouching down in front of the little girl. “H-hey. You OK there?” Of course he knew she wasn't but it was all his mind could think of to say in the moment. “Let's get out of here, huh?”  
  
The feathery, little female nodded back at him, teary-eyed. “I do not know where papa is...”  
  
He placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to console her. “Try not to think about it. I don't know where we are, but that's never bothered me before. If you stick with me, I'll help you get back to him, O-OK?” Rick watched her closely, his expression turning serious. A powerful sense of guilt began to overcome him; she really wasn't who he had wanted to find at all, but he just didn't have it in him to leave her to die out here.  
  
As he stood up again, he bent down to pick her up in his arms, another wave of guilt washing over him as he was reminded of a time when his own daughter was this small; he'd never held any love for her when she was a baby and he had resented the fact that such a screaming, tiny demanding creature had robbed him of all his free time and his very identity. He knew it was a stupid inopportune time for such a memory to intrude his thoughts, but he had difficulty in trying to put it out of his mind again.  
  
The little girl seemed to relax for a moment, but then began to wiggle in protest again, upset as she was from the moment the human had found her in the first place. “No! We cannot go yet,” she pointed to the hollow of a log nearby, “Morty is hiding in there!”

Rick's eyes widened as he stared at her, then his eyes immediately followed the line of her hand. Sure enough, he saw a scrap of dirty yellow amongst the pile of mud and plant debris inside the log; his grandson was curled up in a tight ball, his little body shuddering in the cold.  
  
“O-oh my god... he was with you the WHOLE time?!” Rick was yelling now, but he wasn't angry at all. He set the girl down again, perhaps a little too roughly for her liking, and promptly dashed over to the log to reach in and drag Morty out by the scruff of his shirt. The tiny boy came out rather easily, though he was already grumbling in protest to being moved.  
  
Rick promptly held him at arm's length, his expression wild and dangerous. Although he was more than glad to see the little boy alive, part of him just wanted to murder him for the stress he had just put him through. “What the HELL did I say to you, Morty?!” He was screaming, though the fact that he was still very much upset and worried quickly came back to the surface. “How many fucking times did I tell you to stay put? A-and yet, y-you couldn't even follow one simple instruction!? Do you have ANY idea what I've just been through? H-how could you DO THIS TO ME?!”  
  
Morty stared back at Rick, wide-eyed and very upset. He knew he was in trouble and began to cry, flailing his arms out towards his grandfather in a pathetic display of guilt, begging for mercy, wanting to be hugged and to be forgiven. He had already been wet and cold to begin with, but being exposed to the harsh winds again made him shiver even more so than he had been before; he was miserable in every sense of the word.

“Just.. s-stop scaring me like that, OK?” Rick's voice was still harsh as he cuddled the little boy hard into his chest, clinging onto him, incredibly relieved just to have him back. Although he was angry at himself for upsetting him again, he was also incredibly frustrated; Morty needed to know that what he had just done was NOT acceptable under any circumstances. As he felt Gresharak's hatchling tug at the sopping-wet fabric of his pant leg, he looked down at her, his attention immediately falling on the wooden toy she was offering up to him.

“He dropped this...” The little girl shivered.

“Hah, you still have it, huh? Good.” Rick took the tiny portal gun toy and stuffed it back into his pocket, momentarily amused by its presence. “If it was a real one, w-we would be out of here so quickly... what a pity.” He awkwardly shifted Morty onto one shoulder and reached down to pick the girl up as well, somehow balancing both of them in each arm.  
  
“We... we really need to get out of here, n-not even remotely kidding...” Rick told them as he shook his head, clearing his mind of all the conflicting thoughts running through it; how he felt about Morty running off didn't matter anymore. His voice shifted towards serious and authoritative, his mind now racing with all the survival strategies he had learned over the years. “W-we're going to die if we stay out here. So both of you, hold on and shut the fuck up so I can think...”  
  
He took off again, this time moving at a brisk pace, pushing through all the fatigue and exhaustion he was feeling. There was nothing he could do to shield the small children from the full extent of the storm, yet he hunched his upper body over and tried anyway. For a moment he thought about turning back the way he had come to return to the village, or perhaps the tree-house community, but he didn't know how long that would take and storm damage would have likely changed the terrain far too much for him to recognize it. He also didn't know how much longer the small children in his arms could tolerate being pelted by the elements and it was already troubling him. He was uncomfortably cold and shivering himself and he knew that he would be more resilient to the deteriorating conditions simply because he was older and had more mass; that was a matter of basic science.  
  
Rick headed further into the dense underbrush of old-growth rainforest, hoping that the thicker mass of ancient trees could do a better job of holding out against the storm and provide more of a buffer from the harsh winds. His shoes squelched through thick mud and rotting plant debris and there wasn't any kind of path or walkway, yet he made his way through anyway, forcing his way over dead branches and large uneven rocks. Some of them were loose but he kept his balance, his eyes constantly scanning the area around him for some kind of cover. He heard century-old tree branches groaning and protesting high above and the sounds of other far off branches snapping and cracking, their old boughs finally succumbing to the unabated forces of nature above.

Gresharak's hatchling protested to the sounds all around her, finding them absolutely terrifying to listen to; everything in her instinctive programming was screaming at her to run away. However, she decided to hold fast onto the strange human, even though it made no sense. She was vaguely calmed by Rick's steady, determined pace; he seemed to be very confident, at least outwardly. Either he was totally crazy, or he knew something that she didn't. She went quiet as she decided to trust in his level of expertise and knowledge, because there was little else she could do for the time being.

Rick continued his hastened pace, his expression steeled into firm determination, defiant and stubborn as he pushed through everything else he was feeling; survival was the only thing that mattered now. He knew that many others would probably lose their lives in the hours ahead, either by being caught out in it, being hit by lightning, or perhaps by being crushed by their own tree houses. Maybe they would drown if they were unfortunate enough to be caught up in the flooding.

He did not want to become part of that statistic.  
  
A massive grove of conifer-like trees was up ahead, probably centuries old. Rick made note of the fact that there was less storm damage in the area and headed into it, though he quickly regretted his choice as he observed that water was rapidly spreading across the forest floor. It rushed past him as it picked up rocks and plant material and in a matter of seconds his feet were already six inches below water.

“Fuck...” Rick hissed, his jaw clenched shut just to keep his teeth from chattering. “A river must have broken somewhere... damn it!”

He stopped, scanning the area again, his attention immediately falling on an incline in the terrain ahead. If this patch of rainforest was going to flood, he needed to get to higher ground and fast; while he was more than capable of swimming, he knew for a fact that birdpeople couldn't and neither could Morty. Swimming with two terrified children clinging onto him while he was already freezing wasn't something he wanted to deal with.

His pace quickened and he soon broke into a run; Rick didn't have the faintest idea where the incline would take him but there was no way they could risk staying there. He was soon rewarded with slightly-less-mushy soil underfoot as he continued following the hill, becoming somewhat calmer when it suddenly steeped upwards.  
  
Once at the top, his range of visibility was slightly better. He took another look at his surroundings, trying to determine where to go next, though he had to admit he had no plan and each of his choices thus far had been blind, uninformed guesses.

Both Morty and the girl were shivering as they hugged against the spiky-haired man, which only urged him to press on as they were clearly running out of time. He tracked across more ground, his travels taking him into a valley formation that had been eroded over time by the body of water at its lowest point. His eyes were already on the violent cascading river flowing at the bottom and he looked high above him, making note of an even larger steep incline, solid and steep enough to be considered a cliff; it was covered in small shrubs and ferns that haphazardly grew out amongst the scree all the way up the side. His eyes scanned the higher ground as he looked for anything that remotely resembled shelter; a cave in the side, a gap under under a tree root system, anything.

It was at that moment he found their salvation; a large, spotted predator prowled hastily across the unsteady ground, agitated by the rain. It snarled and made no effort to hide itself as it retreated, seeming to have no trouble as it deftly made its way across the scree. The predator's long, spindly tail flicked out behind it as it disappeared into a small den it had dug out in the side of the cliff.

Rick narrowed his eyes as he watched its every move, his mind going into overdrive. He knew the scree would make movement difficult, but the mouth of the predator's den was easily twenty feet above the current height of the river. He didn't know whether to risk using it or not, but if the river was going to rise that high, then he could just leave again and deal with as it came, just as he had always done. Although he wasn't entirely certain if the hole of the den would be big enough to fit him, it was definitely large enough to fit the two children he was carrying. The scientist shifted his gaze back towards Morty and the feathery girl, watching them shiver. They simply clung onto him, at his complete mercy. He didn't want to keep subjecting them to the cold and that hole was the best option he had right now.

Rick walked down the other side of the hill, carrying them across to a fallen tree, its innards chewed out by decay. He placed both children down and wasted no time stuffing them into the hollow log in the attempt to shield them from the cold. He was already resolving his mind to a half-assed plan that was utterly, utterly crazy, but it was all he could think of.

“OK... s-shit's about to get serious and I need you both to be very quiet,” Rick's voice suddenly became authoritative and parental, and he took a moment to narrow his eyes hard at Morty as he spoke again, “you especially, kiddo. I need you to shut up more than ever, d-don't let anything hear you. This is a life or death situation and you'll kill us all if this fucks up. G-got that?”

Morty didn't respond; his grandfather was being angry again and it upset him. He offered no protest except for tiny whimpers at the back of his throat as he was placed inside the log, prepared to shut up and do whatever he was told just because he just wanted to get out of there.  
  
The little girl nodded at the scientist's instructions and blocked the entrance with her body, using her wings to buffer Morty from the worst of the cold bite in the wind.   
  
Rick offered her a vague grin, genuinely pleased that she seemed so concerned about the little boy's well being. He knew his trust in her would not be misplaced and the small gesture only cemented his desire to protect her as well.

“You, feathers,” he crouched down outside of the entrance to the log, the tail of his already-drenched lab coat becoming even more fouled up by the sloppy wet mud all around him, “you're older than Morty, so in my absence you're the one in charge. I need you to keep him quiet and make sure he stays in there with you until I get back. D-do you think you can manage that?”

The little girl nodded once in agreement.

“Good,” Rick narrowed his eyes harshly as he returned his attention to the mouth of the den, mentally steeling himself for what he was about to do, “because Grandpa has to go and kick some ass.”

He rose to his feet again and began to bound across the valley. Rick took the small whittling knife out of his lab-coat pocket once he was across the river and wasted no time scrambling up the other side. His wet, soggy clumps of hair partially obstructed his vision and he nearly lost his footing several times on the hundreds of tiny loose rocks underfoot, but once he was at the entrance to the predator's den, he began to taunt the creature inside in the attempt to lure it out.   
  
“Knock, knock, bitch!” He panted the words out, a wild toothy grin coming over his face; this plan was utterly insane and he knew it. “Something's about to die, a-and it sure as FUCK ain't gonna be me!”  
  
The large, spotted animal made a loud warning hiss and immediately appeared at the mouth of the hole, lured by the fact that prey would so brazenly challenge it at the front door of its own home. The beast saw an easy meal and rushed forwards to charge at the human with outstretched clawed paws, but Rick was quicker; he darted out of the way and once it was within striking distance, he sprang straight onto its back, slamming it down with his entire body weight.

Both creatures began to tumble out of control as they fought down the scree, but Rick held on as claws flew at him. With one hand tightly gripping the pathetic little knife, his other arm was locked around the cat-like creature's torso as he stabbed it with every ounce of his strength, repeatedly plunging the blade into its ribs with careless abandon until the beast was finally weak enough to stop fighting him.

Rick put his feet out and dug his heels into the ground once the struggle was over, trying to slow his rate of descent. He finally came to a halt with the dead beast nearly three-quarters of the way down the scree and simply sat there for a moment to catch his breath again, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through his bloodstream.  
  
“H-holy shit... I can't believe that actually worked...”

He was scratched up and bruised from the scuffle but felt nothing; there had been no joy in killing the beast or any sense of victory in what he had just done. He reached across and sliced open the creature's throat; if it was going to give him refuge from the storm at the cost of its life, then he didn't want it to suffer any more than it had to. As he carefully got to his feet again, he realized that wanting to give the creature a quick death meant his humanity was still very much intact and well. He kicked the spotted creature and it rolled the rest of the way down the scree like a rag doll, the dead corpse plunging straight into the rushing river below.  
  
“Ah, shit!” He hissed, suddenly regretting what he had just done, “I could have probably eaten that... o-oh well.”

He was covered in clumps of mud and his clothes were spattered with blood thanks to the encounter, but a quick trip back through the rising river and fresh torrents of rain washed most of it off again. 

In another moment, he was back at the hollow tree log and the little girl hatchling stared at him, deathly afraid. When he made another step forward, she squealed in protest. He was taken aback by the sound; she had responded so positively to his presence before and simply couldn't understand the sudden change of mind. 

“What's wrong?” Rick grunted at her, quickly catching himself as he realized he sounded too angry. “We don't have time for this, feathers. We... we need to get out of here, don't you see how serious this is? The river is probably going to keep rising and this entire area will likely be underwater soon. Come on, what's wrong? I can't possibly be that scary.”

The little girl shook her head. “You killed it... you killed a prowler. I watched you. It.. it didn't have to die.”

“Oh, that? W-wait, you actually feel sorry for it?” Rick raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling awkward. “Well, uh... don't those things hunt your kind down? I mean, both Birdperson and your mom said that you're at risk of being eaten by predators like that.” His eyes narrowed slightly, his tone becoming firm. “You're lucky it was me fighting it and not you.”

“Yes, but... it didn't have to die. You could have... have shooed it away...” She seemed entirely uncertain of herself.

“Think about it this way, kiddo,” Rick carefully reached in to pick up the feathery little girl again now that she wasn't trying to back away from him anymore, “it was either it or us. Because I killed it, only one thing has to die today. If we don't take its shelter, all three of us will be dead by nightfall. So if you have to make peace with ending a life, thank its spirit for keeping us safe. O-or... or some shit like that. I don't know, don't you worship clouds and stuff?”

The little girl stared at him, utterly confused. “No...?” She leaned against him in an effort to get warm again. As she hugged onto the strange human, she knew that they were both sopping wet and it would do absolutely nothing for her, but it still felt right somehow. “How... how much further is it?”

“Soon, kiddo, s-soon.” Rick muttered as he crouched down to grab Morty out of the log, noting that he was really cold and barely moving. “Ah shit, keep it together, buddy... a-are you still with me?”  
  
Morty's response was a single pathetic squeak of noise. He was still shivering, but he was starting to slow down and all he wanted to do was go to sleep.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Rick started back the way he had come, realizing that they were completely out of time. Although the river was still rising he waded through it, not making a peep of protest as he rushed back up the other side.

“C-come on, we're nearly there. It's fucking freezing out here...”

After precariously making his way back up the scree, which was a feat in itself while still carrying two children, Rick set both of them down and shoved them straight into the open mouth of the den. He attempted to cram himself inside after them, shoving them along none-too-gently as he went. His shoulders barely fit and it was a very uncomfortable squeeze up the entry chamber, but now that his mass was blocking most of the tunnel, there was barely any wind chill able to get past him. This was a good thing, though; it meant they had a fighting chance at survival.

The female hatchling made loud noises of protest; the lingering smell of predator was strong and almost overpowering. She made loud screeches in her panic and slammed her body back into Rick's shoulder, trying to force him out of the way.  
  
“No, the other way, the other way!” Rick hissed, irritated with her irrational behavior. “G-get it together, feathers, t-there's nothing in here to be afraid of. I k-killed the previous owner, the largest predator in this hole is me...” He was still shivering and slowing down, but it wasn't affecting his judgment, at least, not yet.  
  
“It smells like it is still here!” The feathered hatchling cried at him.   
  
“N-no, it isn't!” Rick bared his teeth. He pulled a small flashlight from his lab-coat pocket that he often used to inspect things, and after turning it on, he forcefully thrust it into her small hands. “S-see for yourself...”

As Gresharak's hatchling shined the flashlight through the tunnels and chambers of the lair ahead of them, the beam of light gave Rick most of what he needed to know; the den tunnel became wider the further in it went. The deepest parts of the tunnel system looked old and well worn. There was no way that the predator could have dug all of this out by itself and further evidence was given by the fact that older sections of the lair had been scratched out of solid black granite.

“Take Morty along with you, and... a-and hurry the fuck up...” Rick instructed her as he continued down the tunnel, dragging his entire weight along as he crawled on his forearms. The scientist quickly discovered that the further back they ventured, the warmer the tunnel became – it was completely dry and the granite had retained latent heat from the day. Things only got better from there; a wide tall chamber sloped three feet upwards at the very back of the den and there was a high ledge heaped with something he couldn't identify just yet. He quickly concluded it must have been a nest or some kind of bedding, which was exactly what he had been hoping for.

Rick could only just barely twist himself around into an uncomfortable seated position once at the back wall of the den. He picked Morty up and forced him onto the ledge, shoving him backwards. He did the exact same thing with the little girl and leaned his back against the slope, sighing as he tried to relax. He knew for a fact that he couldn't fit up there along with them, but didn't care because they were much smaller and needed to warm up faster than he did. If they were safe and warm, that was all that mattered.

He had stopped shivering by now and knew that was a very bad sign; it meant that his mind was going to slow even further as hypothermia set in, but just being out of the rain again made him feel so much happier. He was thankful for being a scrawny little weed of a man; if he had been more muscular or fatter, he wouldn't have fit in the first place.

“Use the flashlight. What do you see up there?” Rick wanted to know for certain that they were going to be all right. “G-give me your best description...”  
  
“Um...” The little girl went quiet and flicked the beam of light around. “Dried leaves? Dried mud. Lots of feathers. Lots of prowler fur... it is really warm up here.”  
  
“G-good,” Rick mumbled, “that's... that's exactly w-what I wanted to hear.” He knew what he wanted to say next, but still had some mild difficulty piecing the next set of words together. “L-listen to everything I tell y-you, OK? Strip everything off. Then... t-then do the same to Morty,” he paused for a moment, adding, “i-if he protests, f-fight him if you have to... I doubt it though, he... h-he doesn't like wearing pants.”  
  
The little girl stared down at him. “You want us to get naked?”  
  
Rick cringed a little; no matter how he thought about it, that statement sounded so wrong coming from a prepubescent little girl. “Y-you have a better chance of drying off and warming back up i-if you do that. D-do you understand?”  
  
Rick waited for a response, but there was none. He saw Morty's wet garments land onto the ground beside him, and then a soggy diaper. Then the hatchling threw her own clothes off and added them to the wet pile beside him.

“Smart kid...” He mumbled aloud as he took off his sodden lab coat and shirt, refusing to do any more. Even though he was colder than he could ever remember, it was still somehow wrong and embarrassing to think about having no pants on and his private parts exposed for anyone to see. If he was going to die, he certainly didn't want to be found dead and naked inside a hole with two young children.

Rick lightly thumped his head back against the den wall, frowning at the fact that the gauze padding all over his back was soaking wet. It was incredibly uncomfortable and itchy, but at least it was something that his slowing, chilled mind could focus on. He felt incredibly sleepy, so he began trying to calculate equations in his head just to keep himself awake; going to sleep now was the last thing he could afford to do, both for his sake and the young children on top of the ledge. If they needed to move out of the hole in a hurry, Rick knew he would need to be awake in order to take charge of the situation. He also knew for a fact that if he allowed himself to slip into unconsciousness, he may risk never waking up again.

All the scientist could do now was wait; he had always been in control and was somebody who always had a plan. But he certainly didn't feel that way now, and he absolutely hated it.

 


	11. Rickovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick finds himself in some more unfortunate situations. He also finally fixes the portal gun, but it doesn't turn out the way he expects it to.
> 
> (Chapter has been beta-read by Unlvcrjchick over on Tumblr!)

**** **Chapter 11 – Rickovery  
  
** **What date is it? What time is it? Something, something, 2001  
** **Location? A fucking hole in the ground!  
** **Look, it's dark, OK? Who cares what dimension it is?  
**

\-----------------------  
**  
**  
His mind was too cold and much too far away; at least it had finally shut up for once in his life.  
  
How long had he been here now? Rick couldn't remember, but had managed to fight through the desire to fall asleep the entire time. His vision was a blurred haze as he lowered his head and a copious amount of drool trailed down his lower lip and chin. He couldn't feel his limbs anymore, let alone move them. When he heard loud screeching somewhere above him, it only vaguely registered in his mind. He heard it again and it wasn't making sense; those sounds didn't seem like words.

 _“What a pathetic way to die,”_ he thought to himself, _“Spend years of your life murdering bureaucrats... only to survive planetary genocide and... freeze to death inside a fucking hole in the ground...”_ The only other thought that penetrated his cold-addled mind was Morty's well being and he hoped the little boy was still alive up there on the ledge.  
  
He didn't know. Morty certainly wasn't making any noise and Rick couldn't see him even if he wanted to; it worried him immensely.  
  
Next he heard scraping, scratching, digging, and the sound of metal scraping across rock, over and over. More screeching. There were more sounds and muffled talking. He could hear rushed, padded footsteps as Gresharak's hatchling ran down the length of the den, but she sounded like she was distant and underwater at the same time. He heard her chirping and making all kinds of noises; some of them may have been words, but she was already too far away for him to make any cognitive sense out of them.  
  
“Are you the human known as 'Rick'? Is that really you down there?” An unfamiliar voice echoed down the length of the dirt tunnel.  
  
That was a word he recognized; of course Rick knew who he was. He opened his mouth to respond, but only a loud, stupid, slurry, resonate phonetic came out. He sounded so weak and pathetic; just how far gone was he? This was nothing like being drunk.  
  
“It is all right, Rick. We know you are in there, Lakkarah has just informed us of the situation. We are trying to dig you out. It should not be much longer. Stay where you are, yes?”  
  
A positively stupid instruction; he was literally incapable of doing anything else. Rick lifted his head towards the source of the voice and even in the throes of hypothermia he was still stubborn enough to want to protest. He was suddenly pelted with giant clods of dirt and his retinas were stabbed by intense blinding sunlight. He couldn't move his arm to block it out and snapped his eyes shut in protest, furrowing his brow in pain.

“Ffff...”

Just as quickly as it had come, the light was gone again as a dense heavy warm blanket was thrown over him. He was promptly assaulted by another and then he felt himself being picked up off the ground and moved around at weird angles as somebody tried to remove his pants. Rick used all his effort to make a loud vocal protest; even though he knew they were trying to help, he wanted to object to the violation of his person.

“Stop fighting it. I need to strip off all your wet garments in order to warm you back up. Stay awake if you can manage it because it is very important. Can you hear me? Do you understand? Respond if you can.”

Rick made a singular weak grunt in reply, still very much frustrated at the fact that his body just wouldn't respond for him. He wanted to move and get out of there, but he would have to concede to the fact that he was utterly useless for the time being.  
  
“Excellent. That is very good. Keep listening to me, Rick. Focus on every instruction that I give to you. It is imperative that we get you out of here as soon as possible. You are going to be just fine, so try not to worry.”  
  
Even through all the haze and slowness, Rick felt incredibly annoyed about that statement. He was being told what to do yet again; nobody told him what to do. He wanted to give them a piece of his mind, but the words just wouldn't come out.  
  
“Is it safe to move him? Is he going to die?”  
  
"Not if we act quickly. I think we have gotten here just in time. Just think, if another hour had passed, he might not be so lucky.”

Time: what time was it? Rick could only tell the sun was back out, which meant that the storm must have passed already. He still hadn't heard Morty make a peep, and he was growing increasingly more concerned by the minute.

“How different is he from us? I am not sure how to treat this. What should we do with him? This is the first human I have ever dealt with.”  
  
“He is not that different to us from a biological perspective. You might think of him as fragile but I have been assured that humans are robust and incredibly resilient. He has no feathers or wings to speak of but his skeletal structure is similar and his genitals are more or less the same, just smaller. If his condition was not at risk of deteriorating further, I would suggest taking a look to sate your own curiosity.” The owner of the voice laughed.  
  
Rick's eyebrow twitched; if he were capable of forming coherent sentences right now, he would have absolutely royally ripped into both of them.

“We need to get him to a warm dry shelter as soon as possible. He needs to be gradually warmed back up and then we can go from there.”

“Where does he live?”

“Wait, I know!” Gresharak's hatchling was the only voice he could recognize. “He lives in my neighbor's house. We are part of the northern flock.”

“Should we take him to the medic? He might be better suited to deal with this.”

Rick protested with a weak, angry sound; that was the last thing he wanted. He couldn't focus his eyes well enough to put faces to the voices, but he knew he already hated these people and wanted to punch them in the face.

“How is his child faring? He did find him again, yes?”

“He's still in the den,” Gresharak's hatchling was eager and excited to help now, “want me to get him?”  
  
“If you could. That would be wonderful.”

The world around him was quiet again, and then a loud, defiant, ear-piercing scream drowned everything else out. Rick's mind could finally relax again; if Morty was feeling aggressive enough to protest with that much volume and fervor, then he was definitely alright.  
  
“Well, if that is everyone in your traveling party, we shall take care of this one and depart before the weather turns bad again.”

Rick felt himself being tilted backwards and then bound up snugly in the blankets that had been thrown over him. He wanted to protest and tell them he wasn't a baby, but he still couldn't get the words out. He gave up and closed his eyes, finding it harder to keep his head up as the desire to fall asleep became more difficult to fight.

“Stay with us, Rick. Try to remain awake as your awareness is very important. I know it is hard but the alternative is worse. Are you still with us?”

Before he could respond, he heard a rushed flurry of feathers accompanied by a harsh landing and loud screechy sobbing. “Oh, how could this happen!? HOW could this happen!? Oh, why did he take my baby girl all the way out here, far away from our home?? She could have died!”

That voice was identifiable - Gresharak. _“Fucking great...”_ Rick thought. Was she pissed at him? He hoped not; he had put Morty and her young girl's survival well above his own, and now he was paying the price for it. He wanted to explain his reasoning and to make her shut up. She had always been too loud since he had met her, but right now her screechy voice was being especially grating on his senses.  
  
“The only reason I'm still with him is because of our children. He's going to end up SO single before the end of the breeding season, let me tell you that!” A pause. A tinier, high-pitched chirp not her own. “Thank the stars that you are alright. I am just glad to see you safe, my precious little girl...” More screechy crying.  
  
Well, at least that had answered his question.

“We cannot stay here as we are wasting valuable time. I am glad you got your girl back, but take her home and see to it that she is checked over, just to make certain that everything is fine.”

Rick felt a warm hand brush up against the side of his face, and it lingered as it caressed his cheek. He furrowed his brow in protest and tried to turn his head away, not at all appreciating the gesture. The hand tracked along with his movement and he made a pathetic growl in disapproval.  
  
“You are so cold... I would give you a hug to warm you up if I could. You have done so much more today than you could ever know, I just hope you realize that. You... you saved my only baby girl. The flock will not soon forget this, I will make sure of it. We will do everything in our power to make sure you get everything that you need.”

Rick gritted his teeth, feeling disgusted; yet another stupid bird person who thought she owed him everything. He had only done what anyone else would have in his situation and because it had felt right. Gresharak was holding his head up now, her warm hand ruffling through his scruffy, dirty, powder-blue hair.  
  
“You are in dire need of a bath. You look like you have traversed the bottom layer of the underworld, which is pretty much what happened, yes? You also smell like compost.”  
  
Rick tried to focus his eyes on her, scowling; he had just been dug out of the ground, so how was she expecting him to smell? He closed his eyes again when he discovered that his vision was still far too blurry and uncoordinated.  
  
“You need me to take Morty again for a while, yes?”

“M-mmm-ph...” He managed a short nod as he forced out the reply, not being able to manage much more as two sounds had taken a lot of effort. He wished he could say more and make hand gestures, but he was so tightly bundled up that it wasn't possible. He gave a short huff in his frustration and gave up.

“Carry the hatchlings. I will take this one. Lead the way.”

And just like that, the bird person carrying him was up in the air, flapping hard. Although he still didn't appreciate being swaddled up like an infant, the two thick blankets were completely protecting him against wind shear; they had obviously thought about that one. Now that he was finally safe, the desire to fall asleep was almost overwhelming and he couldn't fight it anymore. His head lulled back and he was still, his breathing becoming dangerously slow.

“Rick?”

  
\-------------------------  


  
The first sense to return to him was smell; there was a strong charcoal and wood-fire aroma in the air and although it wasn't unpleasant, it quickly burned the inside of his nose. Next came sound and he heard quick footsteps pacing across a wooden floor. It was too loud and he was already aware enough to be grumpy about it.

“Hey, look. Is he waking up? I think I saw an eyebrow twitch.” A youthful high pitched voice that vaguely sounded like a prepubescent male; he didn't have a clue who that one was. “Can I poke him?”  
  
“No. And keep your voice down.” A calm monotone voice was momentarily betrayed with firmness - unmistakably Birdperson's. “I have known him many years and I can assure you that it is normal. It is not uncommon to see him make involuntary muscle movements, especially during sleep. Be considerate as he still needs time to rest.”

“How can he rest when he is unconscious?” A different male hatchling. “That is stupid.” 

How many of them were there? Were they watching him? Did he have a captive audience?  
  
“Duh, shut up. Your talking is probably disturbing his unconsciousness.” The slightly older male verbally cuffed his sibling. “I have an idea. Talk louder, maybe he will wake up?”  
  
Rick gritted his teeth and growled, wishing they would all just go away.

“He just made a noise!” The little girl's excited voice was high-pitched and grating. It made his head hurt.

“Keep your voices down, all of you.” A stern, scolding motherly tone; definitely Gresharak. “I know you want to thank him but I have half a mind to take you all home. Just be patient. You do remember how to do that, yes?”

Rick made another soft groan of protest and wrinkled his brow. He slowly forced his eyes open and stared up at the ceiling, immediately testing his ability to focus his vision. When the two blurry images of Birdperson's roof slowly became one, he was pleased; he was already at three out of five. Now, if only he could get out of the prison of the blankets and get into a nice bottle of whiskey, that would make senses four and five. If he could just do that, he would consider the day to be a roaring success.

Ending up on Birdperson's couch in various states of consciousness and inebriation was becoming habit and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. Before he could entertain that thought any further, one of the hatchlings bounded across the room and was at his side, poking at the blankets around his shoulder.

“Hey, there you go. You are awake!” Another poke. “Can you hear me?” The younger male grinned at him.

“F-fuck off...” Rick hissed, not even bothering to acknowledge him; it was an automatic response without any thought needed whatsoever.  
  
Birdperson rose to his feet and stood at the edge of the couch. “Welcome back, Rick. Although it pains me to see you down like this yet again, I must say that I am incredibly humbled and proud to hear about your act of heroism. The entire community has been talking about what you have done all day.”

“H-heroism? That's stu--” Rick's sentence ended in an abrupt coughing fit; his throat hurt and his mouth was far too dry. “I-It's not a fucking comic book...”

“Something like this is very important to the people in my flock, Rick.” Birdperson stared down at him, inhaling momentarily as he prepared to explain what was a touchy subject. “I am not sure if you understand the gravity of the situation, but the females of our society are undervalued, sometimes cast aside. The fact that you, a superior male of such renown, went so far out of your way to bring a young, weak, unnecessary member of our flock back to salvation is very compassionate.”

Gresharak puffed out her feathers, her expression positively livid. “Unnecessary?! Would you like to take this discussion outside?”  
  
“Salvation? Oh geez, I-I'm... I'm not a f-fucking god. Don't start preaching to me, I don't want any of you stupid feather-brains getting any... a-any funny ideas.” He turned his head towards Birdperson and then Gresharak, glaring hard at them. “Stop that! I-I don't wanna hear about your society-hierarchy bullshit... s-stop getting butthurt about it!”  
  
“Sorry.” Gresharak stood down again. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“C-cold... and I need a drink.” His reply was short, honest, and very blunt. Rick's attention was back on the ceiling now, though he was already back at testing his current capabilities, wanting to know more about his situation. He could feel and wiggle his limbs, though he was still tightly confined in the warm bundle of blankets and he still didn't have a stitch on underneath.

“I am glad you said that,” Gresharak replied, “I remembered what you said the other day about apologies and liquor and how it says sorry so much better than words. Is it a part of your culture?” She picked up a bottle of honey-colored liquid and dropped it onto the coffee table in front of him. “Just as you requested, and no seed-wine 'bullshit'.” A grin accompanied her words as she watched what would happen.

“Mom!” Her eldest son yelped. “Such language!” He paused. “Wait, does this mean we can say that word now?”  
  
Rick's attention was immediately on the bottle when he heard the base hit the table; amber was his favorite color and his mind was already rabidly craving whatever was inside as it had been far too long since his last drink. He made an attempt at trying to sit up, but felt sharp waves of pins and needles spike through his body, shooting down his limbs. At first he guessed it was a result of moving too soon, but when he began to harshly shiver, he was actually pleased about it; all of these new symptoms were positive signs that his body was well on the way to warming up again. With any luck, the heat in the room would start getting uncomfortable and he could risk leaving the confines of the blankets; he felt utterly ridiculous being bound up.

Birdperson was quick to pick the bottle back up. “This is the last thing he needs right now,” he shook his head at the adult female, “you should not have brought this here so soon.”

“Aww c-come on, BP... why not?” Rick's voice was pleading and he didn't care if he sounded like a whiny little child as he continued. “Just one shot... m-maybe three? That's all I need. Be a bro a-and... and hook me up, h-huh?” He clenched his jaw shut to keep his teeth from chattering together.  
  
“Not now, Rick.”

Much to his dismay, Rick watched Birdperson carry the bottle out of the room again. He didn't care what was in it; he wanted it so bad. He closed his eyes again and growled, frustrated by the fact he had such a psychological dependency on the stuff. He knew that it would grow into physical dependency if he didn't keep it in check and that the booze would probably be his downfall eventually, just like his parents. But it was what it was; he was an irredeemable alcoholic and had to accept the fact. It tasted so good and he liked what it did to him.

He was far, far too sober.

“I'm sorry about that.” Gresharak told him quickly, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Does that mean I need to get you another?”

“Yes.” Another automatic response. Spoken like a true alcoholic.  
  
“Maybe later. It is time for us to go.” Gresharak chuckled in reply. She gently nudged her young girl towards him as if trying to encourage her. “What did you want to say to the human, Lakkarah?”  
  
“Umm...” The little girl became suddenly shy and leaned against her mother's legs for support. “Thank you for saving me. You were... really brave.”  
  
Rick shrugged his shoulders as much as he could as he turned his head back towards her. “It's not a problem,” he scowled suddenly, his expression turning deadly serious, “so w-what did you learn?”

“Not to go running off...” She clutched at the fabric of her mother's robe, shy and entirely uncertain about what to do. She also seemed incredibly ashamed of herself.

“And?” Rick emphasized the singular word with a dip of his left eyebrow, glaring hard at her.  
  
“And?” The little girl blinked at him, confused. She was becoming more and more upset by the second. Her next response was barely a whisper. “And, um... to tell my parents wherever I go...?” She sniffled, already on the verge of tears.  
  
“Smart kid,” it didn't come out kindly, “n-now get the fuck out of here and don't ever pull that shit ever again.”  
  
Gresharak picked the girl up and headed for the door. “Whenever you are ready, come back over and get Morty. My spirit mate is busy giving him a bath.” Her attention was on both of her male hatchlings and she chirped at them. “Come, boys. We are leaving.”  
  
With that, the room was empty again and Rick was finally alone with his thoughts. He considered the whole thing to be entirely stupid; although most of it had been his fault to begin with, he couldn't control the events that had followed and managed them as best as he could. He wasn't a hero at all, and the bird people were delusional if they even considered it. He knew one thing for certain; he would probably never leave Morty out of his sight or unsupervised ever again.

Hard regret was the next thing to hit him; the spiky-haired man had been so irrational about finding his grandson again that he had completely abandoned his backpack in the metalworker's shop, along with all of his blueprints and the innards of his portal gun. He had also been stupid enough to pack in more than half of his useful equipment from the workbench and wanted to kick himself over it. He didn't have a clue how well it had all fared in his absence but didn't hold very high hopes for it; if everything was destroyed or damaged from the storm, then he had no idea how to proceed. He wasn't even certain if he had enough components leftover to start again if he had to.

There wasn't even any point trying anymore. 

Within the hour, Rick could finally feel his fingers and toes. After another hour had passed, he was sitting back up and finally freed from the restraint of the blankets. He set one of them across his lap to cover his legs and wrapped the other around his lower abdomen. Although he was unhappy about still being completely naked, at least the blankets were doing everything to conceal the fact.

Now that Rick was looking far more alert, Birdperson took the opportunity to take care of him. He covered up the sutures on his back with fresh gauze padding despite his protests, and then brought him cups of tea in order to warm up his core again. Rick felt queasy and uncomfortably distended after finishing off two of them and wouldn't even consider touching the third.

“F-fuck, don't make me do this anymore, BP.” Rick protested as he glared at the next cup of tea waiting for him on the coffee table. “No more will fi--” He ended the sentence with a rumbling burp, but it didn't do anything to lessen his discomfort.

Birdperson sat next to him. “I am glad to hear it. When you are feeling better, there is hot soup on the stove.”  
  
Rick pulled a face of pure disgust, wanting to gag at the suggestion. “Ugh, maybe later... that stuff is... i-is doing bad things to me. Haven't you got anything else?”  
  
“I do, but you have very clearly stated that you do not want to eat bugs,” Birdperson shrugged, “or worms.”

“So... when are you going to give me the bottle back?” His mind had returned to the booze; he had a vicious craving and it was driving him insane.  
  
“I thought you said that you were full?” Birdperson raised his left eyebrow ever so slightly.  
  
Rick offered him his best toothy grin. “Nobody's too full for a drink. Now give? Give. Give, give, give.”  
  
“Give? You should give it some more time,” Birdperson told him, “it is always better to err on the side of caution. I suspect you are still warming back up and alcohol is not something that you want to administer to somebody who is cold.”  
  
“No, y-you got that all wrong, whiskey warms you up!” Rick objected. “It warms you up! UP!”  
  
Before either of them could say any more, there was a loud knock at the door. Birdperson rose to his feet and opened it, only to stare at a particularly tall and muscular feathered female standing on the other side.  
  
Birdperson simply looked her up and down, his expression remaining stoic. “Can I help you?” He said after a moment; he had absolutely no idea who she was.  
  
“This is where the human known as 'Rick' lives, yes?” She peered around the feathered male, her attention immediately glued to the spiky-haired human on the couch. “Ah, there you are. I am glad to see you again. Can I come in?”  
  
Birdperson saw no reason to deny her, so he opened the door entirely and stepped aside to get out of the way.  
  
As the strange female came in through the door, she held up Rick's backpack and a small leather satchel, her attention still hard on him. “You left these behind. I thought you may have wanted them back, considering how you kept emphasizing how important they were.”  
  
Rick simply stared back at her, wide-eyed and absolutely astounded. A happy grin came over him in the sudden realization that all his abandoned possessions had survived after all. “Oho, fuck yes!” He wanted to spring off the couch and grab the bag, but he remembered that he didn't want to risk getting up just yet. He also realized that he was still naked and pulled the blanket higher up over his torso, making sure that the most private part of his anatomy was still well obscured from view; as much as he enjoyed that aspect of himself, he didn't like showing it to anyone if he could help it. “Bring 'em over here! I-I wanna see what survived.”  
  
“Everything did,” she began to explain, “as soon as you ran off, I made absolutely certain that it would all be safe for you when you finally came back, but you never did...” A sad expression came over her face and she shook her head. “When the storm cell hit, I thought you and your hatchling were done for. But after the storm was over, people began to talk and I wanted to see it for myself.” She set both bags down in front of him. “So are the stories true? The flock will remember this day.”  
  
Rick sat up properly, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious and uncomfortable. “Oh god, not this shit again. Look, it's fine, just.. j-just let it go, OK?” He made a grab for the unfamiliar satchel and opened it, suddenly becoming confused when he pulled out the resin ceramic casing he had left behind and gave it an experimental tap with his fingers. It had started out pure white when he had sculpted it, but it had obviously tarnished during the firing process and was now light grey in color.  
  
“What is this?” He turned it over in his hands, glaring hard as he inspected every last inch. It was still quite raw and the hard edges needed to be sanded back, but he was pleased with how it had turned out so far. The color didn't matter much to him as long as it did what it was supposed to.

“Ah, isn't it your completed project, sir?” The female watched him carefully. “Your strange metallic sliding shape is also complete. You left your schematics behind and they were not too hard to comprehend, so I finished them for you. Why not take a look?”  
  
Rick didn't seem to notice. Without saying anything, he raised the hollow case high over his head and brought it down onto the coffee table with every ounce of his strength, vaguely impressed when it didn't break. This was exactly the kind of property he wanted out of the material; it was behaving exactly as he intended it to.  
  
“Ah, sir?” The female bird-person was a mixture of worry and confusion. “What are you doing?”  
  
Birdperson seemed ever so slightly unhappy. Rick's actions weren't making any sense and he was being destructive; he had just made a huge dent on the surface of his furniture. He wanted to stop the human right there and then, but everything he did usually had a valid reason behind it. He simply stood back and watched, observing what seemed like completely crazy, erratic behavior.  
  
“I'm testing it out.” Rick was grinning like mad as he tossed the resin ceramic case across the living room. He seemed even happier as he watched it bounce twice, loudly clattering as it skittered the rest of the way across the wooden floor, completely unharmed. “Fuck yeah! Th-that's a pass, baby!” He thrust both hands in the air and pumped his fists in victory.

“Are you done?” Birdperson shook his head at him. “What was the purpose of that exercise?” He picked up the ceramic case and against his better judgment, he dropped it back down on the coffee table, leaving it accessible to the scientist once again. If it was only going to be thrown again, he wouldn't be so likely to give it back a second time.

Rick sank back down on the couch and readjusted the blankets around himself. “I already told you, t-that was an impact test for durability. Do you honestly think I'd allow the portal gun to fail the same way it did last time? Fuck no!” He aggressively shook his head. “You know the only difference between science and screwing around is observing and recording the results, right?”

Birdperson stared back at Rick with a blank expression. He gave the feathered female a sideways glance of acknowledgment, who simply shrugged at him, seeming just as confused as he was.

Rick glared at both of their clueless faces. “Oh, fucking forget it! Just know that if it had broken, it wasn't worthy of being anything I'd own. I had a feeling it would behave like that, but I wanted to erase all doubt. Theory and reality aren't always the same.” He picked up the satchel and took out the metal casing to inspect that next, wanting to distract himself from his own irritated mood; it seemed perfectly logical to him and it frustrated him that they didn't comprehend it at all.

“Do you like it?” The female said suddenly, stepping forward to gauge his reaction. “I followed the directions on your schematic exactly as you had drawn them out. And I am the best in the village, if I do say so myself...” She puffed out her feathers, feeling suddenly proud and self-important.

“Y-you finished it?” Rick scowled up at her. “That was my job!”  
  
“Was I not supposed to?” The female's feathers deflated again. “Do you want me to melt down the metals so you can do it again? The alloy ratio is still on your schematic.”  
  
Rick released a tired sigh from the bottom of his lungs, feeling annoyed all over again. “No...” He upended the contents of his backpack all over the coffee table, not taking any care in it at all. “Just tell me how much I owe you s-so you can fuck off already.” He began to sort through the pile and picked up a screwdriver so he could begin assembling the internal components of the portal gun.  
  
“You don't owe me anything,” the female sounded confused, “after hearing your story, I wanted to help in any way I could. You said so yourself, it was important to finish that. I feel that if I had been watching your child for you, things may not have turned out the way they did. I feel partly responsible for what happened and I hope what I have done can make amends.”  
  
“Y-yep, OK, totally done with you...” Rick threw the screwdriver down onto the coffee table and pointed hard at the door, waving his finger at it. “Get the fuck out!”  
  
The female retreated and promptly turned on her heels, departing through the front door, saying nothing as she left. She had no idea what she had done wrong, but wasn't about to ask.  
  
“Motherfucking... stupid bullshit...” Rick hissed aloud to himself as he finished screwing the first circuit board onto the containment casing. He gave it an experimental shake and picked up the next component to add onto it.  
  
“Rick,” Birdperson hesitated as he watched the female fly off into the distance. “That was not polite. She did you a favor.”  
  
“I don't need a lesson in fucking etiquette and manners, a-and not from you of all people!” Rick snapped at him. “Turn the fucking heat down and leave me alone, I gotta get this shit finished!”  
  
Birdperson shook his head and left Rick to his own devices. At the very least, he was relieved; if Rick was in a foul enough mood to be angry and mean spirited, it meant he was back to his old self.

 

\----------------------------------  


  
Rick had finally warmed up enough to retreat back to his room and he had taken everything back with him so he could continue to work without interruption. Although he did feel a little bad over what he had said to Birdperson, his only real motivation in the immediate was to complete the portal gun.  
  
When he found the bottle of amber liquid waiting for him on the desk, he ripped the cork off and took a large gulp, incredibly pleased with the quality of the contents inside. Although it was a bit weak and perhaps too sweet for his liking, it wasn't making him feel ill. He took another mouthful for good measure and set the open bottle aside.  
  
“Damn it, n-now I gotta say sorry to him... again.” Rick grumbled to himself. “F-URRRRPPck...”  
  
As he stood over the parts on his desk, his mind entertained the thought that he had probably made all the wrong choices today. He was still very much berating himself over the fact he had completely neglected to pay attention to Morty, however, he had already concluded that if he had chosen any other path at all, the outcome would have been very, very different. Gresharak would have lost her only daughter, which was a terrible thought all in itself, but it certainly wouldn't have turned out to be as beneficial to him as it was now. Despite everything being completely out of control, he was still very much on time and possibly even slightly ahead of where he should have been by now.  
  
It certainly felt nice not to be kicked down for once.  
  
After throwing some clothes back on and another long drink, Rick was positively buzzing with eagerness and perhaps the amount of alcohol content already in his bloodstream. As he hand-loaded the last of the components onto the metal containment housing, he clicked both halves together and screwed the two sides in place so they wouldn't move. He wasted no time sliding the completed portion into the resin ceramic casing and began attaching the three LED portal generators on the front face, wiring them in place with his ionic soldering gun.

“Oh man, this is gonna be so good,” he said aloud to himself as he fanned solder smoke away with a hand, “this has been a long time coming... d-don't fuck up on me now, baby.”

He flicked the maintenance hatch off the bottom of the portal gun and wired it up to the mains power so he could begin his first tests with live circuitry. The three little lights on the front face started to blink intermittently and he continued to work carefully, knowing full well that if he rushed the final steps of the compiling process, the whole thing could still explode.  
  
Rick carefully set the portal gun down and watched the circuits inside spark and flicker as the device charged itself up for the first time. He delicately plucked the glass containment bulb up off the table and held it over the hole in the top hatch, waiting patiently. When the first sparks of burning, green, iridescent plasma started to spit up from the hole, he clamped the bulb down into place and quickly screwed it in, completing the final step of sealing the containment process.  
  
With bated breath, all he could do now was wait; if anything was even slightly awry, whether it be a bad solder point or loose wire, the whole thing could become unstable and burn itself out. The green plasma sphere slowly rose from its core and hovered in the middle of the bulb, silently levitating. Suddenly, the dimension number indicator came to life as it calibrated itself and spat out a string of garbage characters before going blank as if demanding the operator to input something. The plasma sphere flickered in protest for a moment but soon stabilized itself.  
  
Rick gave the bulb a wary tap with an index finger, but it was only a precautionary measure; he knew the device was perfectly fine. He had done the job with perfection right from beginning to end and there was no reason to worry. He sank back into his chair, a heavy weight lifting off his shoulders. It was finally done, and he was finally free to go wherever he wanted without bounds or limitations; the multiverse was his plaything to do with as he wanted once again.  
  
The device was finally complete and he couldn't have been more proud of himself; the brand new portal gun was both new and old, a blend of borrowed things and innovation, and made out of only what had been accessible to him at the time. He knew he would build many more things in his lifetime but the portal gun was truly his magnum opus; it was what he wanted to be remembered by.

It was also a huge leap forward from the previous models he had made, which felt like amateur trash compared to what lay before him on the table. He had designed the new device with enough internal memory to store a near infinite number of coordinates with hundreds of characters in them, which could be recalled or stored in the portal gun's history with a simple click or twist of the small black rounded button at the topside of the handle.   
  
The energy output had also been optimized so that the device could sustain up to 15 open portals at once, which was something that he figured would come in handy at some point along the way. The casing was also something he was particularly proud of; it was incredibly resilient and he could carry a piece of Bird World with him wherever he went. He was positively certain that no matter how hard he threw the portal gun, it would never break; the bulb would likely shatter long before the case did.  
  
Rick felt like a child with a new toy and in that moment he may as well have been. He already wanted to show it off to Morty despite the fact the little boy simply wouldn't understand its significance. He was also eager to start playing with the device and testing its limitations.  
  
Without even thinking, the scientist unplugged the portal gun from the mains power and began absentmindedly punching in the set of coordinates to his home world. He knew that it would take time before all the numbers from his head could be archived into the portal gun's memory bank, so manually entering characters would have to make do for the time being. If he only kept using it, he would have a decent list of stored coordinates before too long.

Rick aimed his new portal gun at the far wall of his room and fired it, a proud grin coming over his face as green shimmering halos of light spattered forth, behaving like viscous liquid as they adhered to the wall, melding together as they formed a bright green, shimmering, watery portal. He took a moment to stare at the interdimensional gateway simply because he had just missed seeing it.

However, he was quickly knocked out of his reverie; a harsh, cold wind blew through from the other side of the portal and granulated particles scattered across the floor, coating it with a thick layer of glass dust. It was a grim reminder of his situation and his heart sank in the realization of what he had just done.

“Shit...”

His portal gun suddenly began behaving strangely; the three little lights flickered on the front and they shorted themselves out. In another moment, both the portal and the device generating it had gone completely dead.

“No!” Rick slammed the portal gun back down onto the workbench and hurriedly popped open the maintenance hatch so he could try to work out what had just happened. “NO! Not now, oh god, not now... why the hell is it doing this?! I-I didn't do anything wrong!” He quickly turned the portal gun onto its side and hunched over it to poke at soldering points and connections with his fingers, though he couldn't find a single thing out of place.

“Weird...” Rick muttered aloud to himself as he returned the maintenance hatch to its rightful place. He turned the device back on and relaxed slightly when he discovered that the circuitry inside was still completely stable. “Maybe a startup glitch?” He shook the portal gun, causing the plasma sphere in the middle of the glass bulb to shudder in protest. He couldn't hear anything loose inside and now it was just annoying him.  
  
He pressed the black control dial and recalled the previous coordinate. He fired it at the wall again and the portal wetly adhered to the wall once more as if nothing had happened. “Huh,” the scientist said aloud, confused, “well I haven't screwed it up... i-it should be perfect... I don't get it.”

The portal gun shorted out a second time.

“What the FUCK!?”

Now Rick was beyond pissed; the device had no logical reason to be behaving like this. Part of him wanted to rip it apart in disgust and take it back to bare componentry so he could find out where the fault was, but he had been so cautious and careful through every step of the building process, which meant that it should have been flawless; there was no conceivable reason why it wasn't it working as it was designed to.

Rick threw the portal gun down on the desk in disgust and buried his face in his hands, growling at himself; he felt like an utter failure. “Fuck... fuck fuck, fuck! God, why the hell is everything so fucked up!? C-can't even do one thing right... you're a goddamn hack!” He raised his head again and glared at the gun with utter contempt; it was perfect and nothing would ever convince him otherwise. He simply couldn't make peace with the fact he had done something in error.

Before he could entertain that thought any further, the digital dimensional display began to flash with an erratic display of garbage and bizarre foreign characters.

That grabbed his attention immediately. Rick snatched up the portal gun once again and was staring hard at it now; it really wasn't making any sense. He had never encountered such a weird behavioral bug before and nothing even remotely like it had ever happened to any of his previous models.  
  
Suddenly, red letters began to scroll across the display in a digital red marquee.

_\- 'Hey. Don't freak out, I'm actually the least of your troubles for the time being. Don't go back to that destination. You do NOT want to see it right now. Trust me.' -_

“What...?” Rick stared at the words, initially thinking he was going out of his mind. When they didn't disappear, he narrowed his eyes at the display, deeply suspicious. “What the fuck IS this?”

_\- 'Relax. Take a deep breath. You did not do anything wrong. The device is operational and functions exactly as you intended it to, which means you're a fucking genius. Give yourself a lollipop.' -_

Rick turned his attention to the room around him as confusion set in; at first he thought it might have been a prank, but now that he had witnessed his own portal gun display responding to him as he spoke, he was suddenly paranoid; whoever was on the other side of the communications could both see and hear him.

“You're... y-you... you hacked my fucking portal gun, didn't you!?” He snapped in a sudden bout of rage. “And fuck you! I-I can go wherever I want!” He took a deep breath before launching into another bout of yelling. “Where are you?! Stop being such a smart-ass, fuck you!” He knew it was beyond all logic and reasoning to yell at an inanimate object, yet he did it anyway.

 _\- 'As I said before, relax. It is imperative that you remain calm. I hate repeating myself. So do you.' -_  
  
“Oho, so you think you're funny now, huh!?” Rick angrily barked at the display. “Y-you son of a bitch! Why... h-how the hell did you hack my portal gun? Where are you?!”  
  
_\- 'I get it. You are pissed off and you have all kinds of questions. I can answer them for you, but you have to remain calm. It's better for you that way, trust me. Write this next step down. Pick up a pen and get ready, OK?' -  
  
_ Rick snarled as the words scrolled across the small screen, baring his teeth. “W-what the hell are you even playing at!? How can you see me? How the hell are you listening to what I'm saying to you?!”  
  
_\- 'I'm not playing a game, this is an incredibly serious matter. I would not be wasting my time on you if it wasn't.' -_

“Where the hell are you?!” Rick bellowed at the display, globs of spit flying across the desk. “Why are you fucking with me!?”

_\- 'I'm not fucking with you. And to answer your question, I am at my workbench, just like yourself. That IS pretty much all we do, isn't it?' -_

“We...?” Rick narrowed his eyes in the realization of his next thought. “You're... you're a Rick, aren't you... what do you want with me?”

 _\- 'Clever deduction, little scientist. Did you figure that one out all on your own?' -  
  
_ “Fuck you!” Rick snarled in reply. Fighting against his better judgment the whole way, he picked up a pen and impatiently tapped the point down on a piece of scrap paper at the far end of his desk. “Fine, I'll.... I'll bite. What do you want me to write down?”  
  
_\- 'I knew you'd come around. Glad to see it, because things are going to get so much worse for you if you don't.' -  
  
_ “W-what do you mean by that...?” Rick raised an eyebrow, deeply suspicious all over again; did he know something he didn't? Now he was just curious.  
  
_\- 'Relax. Everything will be fine as long as you do exactly as I tell you. Visit 40512-4DD567127Z3-53995483-09995-Q-316 in exactly 8 hours and 0 minutes from this transmission. Look at your nearest clock and do the math to work out what that is in your current timezone. Do not be late. Repeat: do not be late.' -  
  
_ Rick quickly scribbled down the character sequence and raised an eyebrow as he tried to mentally visualize where that destination could possibly be. He quickly deducted that he had no idea.  
  
“Is there anything else?” Rick grunted as he returned his gaze to the room around him. He desperately wanted to know where the other Rick was and how he was so easily able to remotely access his portal gun display.  
  
_\- 'No. Do yourself a huge favor and don't think about it. Plug your portal gun up to charge and just get some sleep before you wreck yourself.' -_  
  
Rick flattened his eyebrows, angry all over again; this guy was starting to sound like his mother. “A-are you done?”  
  
\- 'Yes. If you follow my instructions, I will entertain whatever you ask. I'm going to give you free reign over your portal gun again. Remember: do NOT be late. And don't go back to your native dimension's planet Earth for the time being. Your mind simply isn't ready to deal with what is on the other side just yet.' -  
  
Rick twisted his mouth into a very-uncomfortable expression as he read the last part of that message.  
  
_\- 'That is all for now.'-_

And just like that, the digital display went blank again. The plasma sphere rose back into the middle of the glass bulb and levitated silently as if nothing had happened to the device in the first place.

Rick set the portal gun aside and exhaled sharply; his mind was racing with new questions all over again. How did the other Rick manage to hack his portal gun before it was even finished? Was it really that easy and vulnerable to attack? How was he even able to watch what he was doing? As he looked back down at the device, his mind bombarded him with all kinds of modification ideas. Suddenly, the portal gun felt like yet another half-finished project all over again; if it was so easily exploitable, then there was so much more he needed to add to it.

He felt like a complete idiot.

Who was this guy? Why was he watching him and what did he want with him? Was the entire room bugged? Was the other Rick going to kill him? He didn't know the answer to any of these questions and it was already driving him insane. Rick had always hated unknown parameters, yet here he was all over again, feeling hopeless and all he could do was wait it out, just like he had done in the cold dark tunnel during the storm, not knowing what was going to happen.

It had been a week since he had been displaced from his home world; he finally thought the week from hell had finally ended. Yet, it seemed like it was just beginning all over again.

 


End file.
